I am impatiently waiting.
We are setting records for warm weather around here. It has me twitchier than normal. I want to be outside Doing Something.
I planted a few lily of the valley bulbs earlier this week, and the soil was really too wet to do even that. I have plans for a new bed at the side of the house: daisies I'm digging up from a friend's yard*, echinacea, purple love grass, a perennial grass that I'm going to transplant from elsewhere, and some white bleeding heart alba. But for now, I wait until it is dry enough to work the compost into the soil.
The only thing to do is to plan. I started a Gardener's Journal last year, so this year I tried to plot out my little yard and the perennials that are already planted.
Click to enlarge**
It's not much, but at least it's Doing Something. The tragedy, of course, is that I have a fairly brief window in which I want to be outside working. Once it gets around 90 degrees or the mosquitoes arrive, I lose interest in doing anything but the most necessary outside tasks. It's a flaw of mine that I promise to work on every summer.
Knitting doesn't help when I get like this. I am working on the second sleeve of the Talamh, but it's difficult to maintain any sort of momentum when I know it will be too warm to wear this for the next six months.
*True story: I asked my friend if I could have some of her daisies. When she said yes, I informed her I would be bringing a shovel and bucket to her husband's birthday party. I'm glad we're close enough she loves me even though I'm weird.
**If anyone really wants to know what's planted where, I'm happy to tell you. I do realize that my life has limited interest though. C'est la vie. Well, ma vie anyway.