When I go into the garden, I forget everything. It's uncomplicated in my world of gardening. It's trial and error, really. If something doesn't work, it comes out, and you start all over again.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Memory is the thing you forget with.
I hardly have any spare time! But when I do, I garden a lot - I love plants and flowers.
The average gardener probably knows little about what is going on in his or her garden.
Gardening is how I relax. It's another form of creating and playing with colors.
The garden has taught me to live, to appreciate the times when things are fallow and when they're not.
So much of memory comes from the beginning of our lives when we know the world for the first time with a kind of clarity. It is that discovery of the past in the present on which a writer depends again and again as if our lost childhoods, like the surprising cyclamen plant, are forever opening new blossoms.
I wake up some mornings and sit and have my coffee and look out at my beautiful garden, and I go, 'Remember how good this is. Because you can lose it.'
I have a hot memory, but I know I've forgotten many things, too, just squashed things in favor of survival.
I think it's difficult to forget things that are unresolved.
Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it.