When I bought my first house (a converted chicken coop), one of the first things my Dad and I did was plant a garden. It was a magnificent garden with tomatoes, peppers, broccoli. It was the only garden I ever had that was cleared of grass and then we laid down a big sheet of black plastic. I never had to weed it and I had fresh veggies for quite a while.
Fast forward. I'm on my third house now, and I still have a veggie garden, but now I have weeds. A LOT of weeds. But weeding can be very therapeutic. Lately when things get overwhelming, I go out there and yank 100 weeds. (I told you there were a LOT of them.) When I'm done, I'll have a nice clear little patch (which I know will be filled in again by next week).
When I get stuck writing, when I can't come up with one more thing to write, I'll go out and pull a few weeds. Sometimes I talk over my writing problems with my tomatoes and beans. They've not very helpful when it comes to story ideas, but they listen quietly and don't judge.
What do you think about when you're weeding?