I called my mom last night, as I do most Tuesday evenings, and as we talked I began to prattle. I had spent about half the day outside in the garden, (and half the day inside trying to focus on writing, and failing), and my head was full of thoughts and ideas and plans and lists of materials. I told her about planting herbs (variegated sage, purple oregano, lemon thyme, chives, tarragon, cilantro, lemon balm, sorrel) and about planting carrots and cilantro, and about all the plans in my head.
Because she gardens, too, she understood it all. The lust for experimentation and planning, the prattling. The head full of dreams.
|(This picture will make way more sense once I start laying out the pathways.)|
My last deadline for this writing cycle is April 23rd, and I'm starting to keen pretty strongly for that day to come. My favorite thing about writing is the flexibility, and the variety. When the mind is worn out from assignments, I can go outside and work myself sore. Then I let my sore muscles recover while sitting at my desk and stretching my mind. It's hard to focus sometimes, but no day is ever the same.
I have a list for my next chunk of free time. It goes like this:
- Frame salad garden paths with 2x4s; lay sand and then brick in basketweave fashion.
- Finish planting early crops: lettuce, arugula, radishes, beets. More peas.
- Use excess sod to build short raised beds; cover with black plastic so sod decomposes.
- Pick up reel mower from friend who said I could have hers; mow paths!
- Spend ~$100 on more shrubs and trees for the yard.
- Start prettying up foundation flower beds.
Sigh. It must be spring.