|Once a vast and colourful flowerbed, now a pile of clay and black dirt|
Soon it will be grass — which I don't mow — and now my flowers are in front of the house, where I can see them while washing dishes or sipping on my coffee in the morning. And I can go through the flowerbeds, vanquishing weeds with my trusty horseshoe hoe, in about 30 minutes. Why, it's almost too easy. Whatever will I do with myself now, during my 10-minute breaks between hours of computer work? Heh. Just kidding. Always lots to do out there: digging up dandelions, watering, deadheading.
Scott is talking about making a place for a small vegetable garden behind the house, which is where it used to be before I staked my claim back there and left only room for a few tomatoes and green peppers. I hope he does; and also that he takes care of his tomatoes and potatoes and whatever else, because I'm not into it. He keeps on top of the weeding -- whereas I ... well, flowers come first in my heart, and vegetables I'd rather buy at the farmers' market than spend time looking after. However, if he grows them, I'll process them; make salsa, probably.
At 5:30 this morning I was up, standing in my housecoat on the step, waiting for Ducky Doodle to do his business. This is my idea of the best time to rise and shine; it's calm and beautiful outside, and you get a longer day out of it.
I went back to bed to read and have coffee, though. I'd really feel noble if I went for my walk right away, but I can't do it on an empty stomach and it takes me quite a while to feel like eating.
How lucky am I to have had for almost 10 years this luxury of mornings free to read and write and even go back to sleep if I choose? I am so very grateful for this freedom.
Here's what the flowerbed back there used to look like:
Yeah, I might've been crazy.