Isn't musing by its nature somewhat random? Really I'm just spewing my own fears of employing the endlessly cliche expressions found in the writings/babbling of the great unwashed. I am drugged and bound and something of a willing hostage it seems to common parlance.
Every year I go through the same dance. I want, somehow magically, my efforts in the gardens to be catalogued under, not exactly fun, but free from stress, contemplative, smooth. To NOT feel put upon. I desire the impossible of the 'nearly' well tended, (maybe that comes from all those years landscaping for the wealthy who could afford garden armies for a 'look'). But even that desire leads me to conclude a sort of stunted mindset exists within me. I should be beyond that.
In any event this is that dangerous time of year when I begin to feebly negotiate and weave plans for a better me. We'll see.
On the green front, a slight rise in temp only to be flattened by gloomy skies. Started more seeds with good wishes and optimism and made some dahlia cuttings. Which brings me to the issue of room for all the new vegetables as well as all the cutting flowers. If the ground were bare I'd be prepping new beds!
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