A Day...


The thermometer under our shaded porch reads 82*F. It feels much hotter in the sunshine, humidity or not. This wonderfully mild summer has so far been kind to us although the lack of rain causes stress on my more-delicate plants.

We spent the afternoon weeding the flower beds. Densely packed planting areas deter weeds, for the most part, but the crab grass thrives under the vibrant leaf canopies. We found three wild memosas, hardly two inches tall, and planted them in a spare pot. Perhaps I’ll overwinter them indoors and see if I can get them to thrive in the back garden next spring.

Mother nature doomed the lawns. A velvety tapestry of broad leaf monsters, stitchwort and clover took over large patches, filling in the spots where the heat (and gas line work of last year) has weakened the grasses.  It looks lovely when freshly mowed and viewed at a distance.
Biting flies drove us from the front porch. They attacked in small clusters while we watered the vegetation. Citronella candles do little to dissuade them.  (I paused to relight one just now and managed to drip hot wax down my favorite yellow tee shirt. Damn it all.)

Our peppers are thriving, as are the tomatoes. We’ll have good things to eat in another week or two. The basil thrives in the humidity, although the parsley isn’t too pleased with it. We plant anything else this year because we knew we wouldn’t have the energy to tend it. Porch gardening limits the amount of produce but is much simpler than trying to weed large beds or long rows.

Better Half has gone in search of a new propane tank so we can grill tonight. Yester, he picked up his favorite fresh burgers (nasty things stuffed with cheese and other products) and I found a pretty t-bone. We’ll rummage through the veg we didn’t eat last week and see what can be steamed. I’ve wanted to make corn and tomato salad but haven’t felt much like cooking this week.

I really don’t know where my energy went this season. My insomnia has kept me up until the wee hours of the morning (or later, say 6 am!) and I seemed to have turned into a diurnal sleeper. According to my mother, I was a nocturnal minster as a child, refusing to go to bed and nasty to wake up in the morning. I’d rather stay up all night and enjoy the tranquility than spend a day shackled to the phone or sitting in a café or park.  I’ve turned into an unequivocally antisocial shit. Go with your natural talents, I always say. The downside of this is that I have a long laundry list of things that I really need to get done if I can just get back to sleeping at night: phone calls to return, an Asian lilac to prune back, walks with Better Half in the park, CAP work and a newsletter to finish, and so on.

“Why don’t you do it now, Aut?”

Please. I’m getting ready to wash all the dirt and sweat off and take a nap.

Note to self: if you stuff weeds and trash into an empty soda can, don’t put it next to the fresh can. You’ll get a nose full of gunk when you try to drink out of it.

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