I want to go outside and play in the garden, but the cold
and rain continue. I’m happy the drought is over, my new transplants have “taken”
and seeds have germinated, but I’m getting cabin fever. We had two days of
glorious weather earlier in the week that I mostly spent conducting business
that couldn’t wait. The moment I escaped the square buildings and set foot in
the garden, the skies opened up.
I’ve been known to garden in slicker and
Wellingtons,
but I really hate the cold. If we make it to 70 degrees these days, it’s a
miracle. I guess I’ll have to trudge up to the attic for a cleaning and purging
session. Where does all that junk come from? I really make an effort to either
give away or toss the excess, but it still builds up.
My mother saved broken things, which used to drive me crazy.
She knew she hoarded, but couldn’t help herself. When she knew she was dying
from terminal cancer, she invited me into her closets, drawers and medicine
cabinet. Given the circumstances, I bit my tongue as I tossed out old coffee
makers and ten-year-old prescriptions. I’m more like her than I care to admit!
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