A blog is a funny thing. I am feeling a bit lost with mine at the moment. What is it for? I wonder if I should just decide once and for all what I want to do with it and stop fannying around.
Some of my favourite blogs are gardening blogs, written by passionate and knowledgeable and fascinating people. I love gardening. It is one of my great passions too. Often I will blog about my garden and will use the blog to inspire me to get out there with my camera and to really see what is happening rather than rushing through, weeds in hand, on the way to the compost heap.
But I am not a great gardener. I am not an artist with plants. I am not a plantswoman. I am just someone who likes to grow things, most of the time. I don't garden in winter or in the rain and cold. Sometimes I just get bored with the relentless tide of creeping buttercup and bindweed and the way things die. I love Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day on other people's blogs but I am never organised enough to have the perfect photo to hand to join in. So is this a gardening blog?
Some of my favourite blogs are parenting blogs. I love the pithy and witty way Who's the Mummy writes about bringing up her little girl or the honesty with which Exmoorjane chronicles the highs and the lows of family life. Sometimes I write a bit about my own family but I am too aware of their right to privacy to say much about my adult children or my parents and, let's face it, there is no anonymity here so it needs a special moment like the birth of my grandchild to make me break my usual reserve and open my heart up. I have to write about my family sometimes because they are such a huge part of who I am but this is a parenting blog?
Some of my favourite blogs are just written by people who are extraordinarily talented writers who could take any topic and have you laughing or musing or catching your breath. I don't really know whether I can write or not. Sometimes I come across something I wrote a year or so ago and am quite surprised that I was the author. More often I struggle to find the words I want and sometimes the reason I use a lot of photos is that I just can't find words. So am I a writer? I suspect not.
I love blogs about food and am a keen eater and cook but rarely write about it. I love blogs about books and am a fanatic reader but rarely write about that either. I suppose if anything this blog is often about the place which I love dearly but it must hardly start the heart racing when I tell you for the umpteenth time that the light on the other side of the valley is very beautiful this evening.
So go on, please tell me if you can spare the time. Should I write about one thing, properly with passion and fervour, instead of skittering about from place to place like a rather clumsy butterfly? And if I should, what should it be?
Or should I just carry on whittering quietly to myself in the corner?