I'm a Master Gardener and have often given talks about poison plants, many of which you have in your garden (hydrangeas; lily of the valley; daffodils...and the list goes on).
I spoke at a library recently about plants, but they really wanted to talk about writing. So I gave my slide show on poison plants (see the list on my web site, if you're curious) then we chatted about writing for an hour or more.
The attendees wanted to know the usual: how do I fit writing in my life (I work full-time, I volunteer, I have a social life); what's my process; where do I find my plots -- you know, the usual. Along the way, I mentioned that I enjoy writing but the day this becomes a job, that's the day I walk away. I have 30 books out and I've got nothing to prove to anybody--I'll take my success and move on to the next thing in life.
I "gave away" a few books (that's in quotes because everyone gave me money and I probably made more than if I'd sold them). Everyone seemed intrigued by my energy, but I pointed out that if you're doing something you enjoy doing, then you make time and energy for it. That seemed to resonate with quite a few folks, and one woman said she admired my philosophy of life.
Philosophy of life? I guess I never thought of it that way, but maybe it is. I pretty much do whatever I want (within reason: I didn't slug that guy who annoyed me in the store) and I don't worry over much about what others think of me. I try to enjoy whatever I'm doing and if I don't, I get it over with as fast as possible. Is that a philosophy of life? Hmm. Maybe.
If it is, then I'm living the dream and you know, maybe I am. Sure, things could improve. This pesky hip could get a bit stronger, I could sell a bunch more books, I wouldn't have looming deadlines in the Day Job that are giving me fits. But hey: I'm doing what I want to do, so I've got nobody to blame but myself.
It's all good.