Here is my cactus garden to remind me of SUN as we approach the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year.
They grow slowly, they are patient.
Cacti are prickly but calm. They are grouped, but don't touch; I sense their fierce independence.
I have them on my desk, by the window, near my laptop. Now I know why:
Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it's the answer to everything. To ''Why am I here?'' To uselessness. It's the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it's a cactus.”
-- Enid Bagnold (English Writer, 1889-1981)