A Time to Dream

This morning as I savored my organic, fair-trade coffee from Costco, I leafed through my Cook’s Garden catalogue, and dreams of spring and summer rushed in.

Now, I’ve gotten much better about living in the present, and have tried to maximize my experience of winter by enjoying the inside life, and not having a tantrum when I call the village works department to come and remove the three-foot wall of snow they always leave right at my driveway on their way out of the cul-de-sac.

But I do love spring. And summer. And the vegetables that grow in my garden in spite of the lousy clay soil I have in my backyard. The catalogue visually implies that my veggies will look  like their pictures. They won’t. But I’m susceptible. I dream of getting as close as possible, so I’ll do it again, plant the seeds, weed and hoe and turn the soil. Not because I love that work as an end in itself, but because I have a dream of luscious, nutritious vegetables.

Probably not coincidentally, I’m waiting for feedback on my middle grade novel before I begin revisions. The wait also gives me needed time away from the first draft.

So it’s dreaming time for me…dreaming my novel will become the one I imagine.

It won’t. Not exactly. Just like my garden veggies won’t look like the pictures in the catalogue. But I hope my new novel will become something closely resembling the dream.

Don’t we all? Isn’t that why we dig in to revision, and try to keep our hearts on the harvest?