Like a Farmer carefully selecting the right words, to nourish the sentence. I'm meticulously treating every words like piece of my masterpiece, carefully selecting, before inputting them in line, to make a beautiful classic.
  And just like Farmers have their bad days of droughts, pest and floods. I also have my own times that can't be helped (Writer's block and self-doubt). But exploring the feeling of reward, and not having to inhibit one's growth and accomplishments.
   Metaphorically, With my shovel, I dug deeper, into different layers of thoughts and emotions. With the Rake for refining and reorganizing thoughts into structures that fits, My Cutlass for cutting through distractions, and my ***, I mean the one I use for weeding out unnecessary words or phrases.
  Naturally, My ideas are like seeds waiting to grow, with my mind being the soil, that has been shaped by experience. And my harvest being completed words that are ready to be shared.
  Momentarily, I revolve through time. With Spring bringing out an epic burst of fresh inspiration and beginnings, While Summer being the months of writing and revising, and Autumn being referred to as "Months of the harvest of completed works", And Winter for hibernation, waiting patiently for the season to start all over again.