Mrs. Shelton taught me that every poem is a MADAM: the Most Acceptable Draft At the Moment. "Never fall in love with a first draft, Laura Joy," she'd say. Turns out she wasn't just teaching me about poetry—she was teaching me how to revise my entire life after divorce.
Author: Laura Joy Palma
Burying Dead Roses: How My Garden Taught Me About Betrayal
He confessed to cheating just as my first garden taught me about variables you can't anticipate. Sometimes the best thing you can do with dead flowers is bury them and let them feed new growth.
Why I Ignored the Warning Signs: Learning to Read Life’s Tags
My hanging plants came with clear instructions I ignored, just like the red flags in my marriage. Sometimes love means paying attention to what someone actually needs to thrive.
Two Hanging Plants, Twin Nieces, and the Teenager Buying Boobs for Graduation
One plant thrives, one dies. One twin crawls, one raises her arms. One teenager begs to grow up too fast. I sing 'In The Garden' to my nieces and wonder: am I the dying plant or the late-blooming azalea?
Breaking Up in My Azalea Garden: When Love Means Letting Someone Grow
A bird flew from my wreath and knocked me off balance. Days later, sitting beside my boyfriend on the porch, I realized I'd outgrown our pot while he still needed time for his roots to develop. Some transplants come too early.
Six Hours on My Knees Pulling Clover: How My Ex-Husband Became a Garden Weed
Kathy at Home Depot warned me: those pretty pink clovers are weeds that steal nutrients. My ex-husband's aunt warned me too—he was just a little boy playing house. Both times, I fell for the pink flowers.
The Magnolia Trees Bloomed While I Was Waiting for Perfect
I planned to photograph the magnolias when the light was right and the trash cans weren't there. By the time I returned, they were bare. I've spent my whole life waiting for the perfect moment that never comes.
When Why’s Lack Faith
In my brother's theater room, I first considered divorce. Now the firewood from my fallen oak sits uncollected—like my faith, once alive and thriving, now silent with an uncertain future. Why ask why at all?
Why I’m a Perennial, Not an Annual: Lessons from My Neighbor’s Forgotten Daffodils
Impatiens live and die in one season where you can watch. Peonies disappear underground and make you wait. I've been judging my life by what's visible, forgetting that perennials need winters to bloom.
My Students Dream of Money, I Dream of Pink Magnolias and Grandchildren
My juniors write about the American Dream—education, money, good jobs. But I'm chasing the Italian Dream my great-grandfathers brought across the ocean: family dinners at 5:30 and a front porch swing under blooming magnolias.
Writer's Growth 