Artistic Blockage of the Worst Sort

I knew that moving was going to disrupt the artistic process of both Bob and myself but I had no idea just how monstrously! We spent so much time disassembling and boxing not only our house, but the contents of two studios (and those extensive gardens...) Then we camped out- sans studio space- in the dead of winter. Not to belabor the obvious, as laid out in excruciating detail in my previous blog postings, but moving is and has been hell. It also unseated a deep seated stability or sense of place so important to artists like us.
Some artists are paripatetic and seem to be able to create work on the fly. I hear about these artists, but perhaps they're like yetis or Big Foot- makes for a good story but they don't actually exist. I think a sense of place and a studio home base are essential ingredients for many artists.
So I'm kind of blocked. This has only occurred a few tragic times in my adult life. I realize with the deepest part of my being that this is a temporary blip in the bigger picture, but it sucks. The other day, I was feeling so strung out and melodramatic...
But I had a revelation or an epiphany, and I know that it probably seems obvious to anyone else, but we have to re-invent that sense of place here. So I got busy, not with emptying the thousandth box but with planting our garden. Quite literally for me, it's all about digging in the dirt and creating our environment.
I'm feeling so much better now; tired in that truly filthy, dirt under the fingernails, muscles aching from shovels impacting rocks way. But better.
By the way, that picture is of our main mixed border back at the old address. I guess we have a long way to go as that photo is of a garden that's been under cultivation for eighteen years! But I'm psyched,