Here's a snap, borrowed from my Uncle's blog, of my sister and me with my aunt and grandparents. I think Elspeth looks just like me and Heather looks a great deal like Merry, but maybe I'm dreaming.
Yes, I'm procrastinating. There are a handful of jobs to do outside before we leave for Ohio tomorrow morning. Among them, and the one I like least and dread most, is watering the plants and seeds. Why do I hate this? It is SLOW (about an hour and a half) and involves dragging the hose like a grumpy toddler's arm place to place to endless place. The fact that I'm nurturing plants, and can listen to the birds singing, lawnmowers humming, etc. doesn't make a spot of difference to me (at this particular moment). It is tedious.
Wazoo Farm received a general clean-up in the past two days; I heaped junk for the sanitation crew and weed-whacked and Martin pulled the mower up and down the hill (too steep for the riding mower WITH chains) until he about fainted. But things are looking better. Tomatoes, peppers, and strawberries are in. Herbs, zinnias, and the rest of my seeds go in after our return. I'll post snaps in a few days.
Here's a mystery. Johnny Appleseed, Miss Rumphius--all their whimsical lot--just toss seeds into crevices and crannies, and bingo! Apple trees and lupines appear. Not so for me. First I soak the lupine seeds all day, sow them after dark, and hope wildly for the best. Tossing seeds. Does it really, truly work? And after all our work pulling endless thistles and digging the hill the thistles are back. Nasty critters. You can actually buy thistles and plant them for salads and medical remedies. Anyone want mine?
The next big job for us is installing a fence. This is proving to be rather on the expensive side, but more to the point, who would like to come out and help Martin? I'll be fixing great food, mixed drinks, and cold ice baths for the workees. Any takers? Come now, post-hole digging in clay soil is FUN. Alright, but working with Martin IS fun. Here's a shout-out to Martin's DAD. Help! (The house next to us may be for sale). . .
Enough procrastination. The poor thirsty plants are begging for attention, as is Elspeth, who is supposed to be sleeping at this moment in her hot room in her warm crib. Life is very, very hard when you're only seventeen months old.
