Here's what has had me in its thrall lately. Native grasses on the front hill. Okra and Cucumbers in containers. Tomatoes in raised beds. lettuce, cilantro, basil and rosemary in a basket. Steps made from stepping stones. Watering-can birdfeeders. Home-made cement birdbath from a rhubarb leaf. This is only a representative sample.
I have things growing all over. Without rhyme or reason. I think that is part of what appeals to me. I have planted seeds and no longer remember what they are. I know that I planted onions, strawberries, creeping thyme and a lot of lettuce. I know the location where seeds need to be watered. But I don't know what will come up in those places. The change to the summer schedule has not gone smoothly for me. I don't need to get dressed in professional attire until I go to work in the afternoon. So I just throw anything on. And what is the point of showering if I am just going to sweat up a storm in the garden. Here are the things that have been non-optional for me even in my less-than-completely -functional state:
Some of those non-optional things I am not willing to let go-- even if I think the garden thing has become somewhat pathological. I think if I work on some other stuff, the garden will stop eating my brain. New non-optional items:
Sick of feeling blah. Sick of not really caring that I feel blah. Tired of wandering around in a daze. Provider has not (at least I don't think so) returned call and I have not called them back. This bothers me... although I was very clea in my message that it was a med check. It strikes me that when people call in for mental health stuff it is VERY important for the clinic to follow through. Because it is hard sometimes for the people calling to get themselves together enough to do so. P.S. I am motivated to get myself together for new and exciting projects at work. I should meet with my boss soon so I can get started on creating the online part of my hybrid class for the fall... Calling on Monday at 8:00. I may even just go ahead and schedule an appointment. Comments are closed.
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K. BuchananQuaker, teacher, parent, |