There is stuff that needs to be done! My garden needs me! (Well, I delude myself that it does. Honestly, it doesn’t need that much from me to maintain itself, but I keep wanting to make it better.) There are beds to be laid out and edging to install and the rest of the foundation planting and…
It’s also in the mid-nineties with killing humidity and the weather forecasters are issuing pronouncements that involve words like “heat exhaustion” and “death” and “checking on your elderly relatives.”
So I get a smidge done in the morning before eleven. Earlier in the season, I could get a solid hour of puttering around in the garden done every morning. Now, what with the death and all, I can maybe do twenty minutes. Which sucks, both because I love my garden and because that was my major exercise–the artist’s life is a sedentary one–and my doctor has been yelling at me about that lately.
I could be ready for fall soon. And by soon I mean “Hey, is it fall yet?”