My most excellent cousin was commenting on the astounding (to him) regularity with which I post. I guess I do post pretty often. I have a busy, ongoing life that just keeps happening, no matter how much I’d sometimes like it to just hold still for one little minute. The real reason, however, that I post pretty often is that, well, I have this job. And it’s a great job. I enjoy my co-workers, and my boss loves me. It’s really perfect for while I’m in school. But there isn’t always all that much to do. I used to feel really guilty about being there, being paid, when I don’t have much to do. Then someone pointed out to me that what they’re really paying me for is my availability, which made me feel better. Anyway, while I’m at work, in between things, I blog. And that’s why I’m able to post fairly regularly.
Yesterday I had one of the best evenings I’ve had in a long time. This is why it was so good: I got out into the garden. I really love my garden. It isn’t actually mine. Really it belongs to my roommate, who owns the house I live in. However, I love it as if it were my own, even though if it were really mine all the roses in it wouldn’t be pink! (Pink roses are lovely, but there are so many gorgeous roses out there…) On Monday I had the day off school, so after I did my taxes I got out and planted seeds (sweet peas and morning glories against the back fence), and did a little weeding. Last night I pulled the ivy away from the bases of the hedge roses, and put Good Stuff around their roots, and weeded the incipient Rose of Sharon twiglets out before they had a chance to turn into anything like bushes. (Rose of Sharon bushes are lovely, but not when they’re where my roses are trying to live!) Then I planted more sweet peas and morning glories (all blue this time) in two window box liners which will hopefully be blooming beneath my garret window all summer.
The dusk was falling deeper and deeper as I worked, and the air was soft and warm on my skin. Every once in a while a jogger or a neighbor would go by, and comment on the tulips or smile. My hands were covered with dirt, and my feet were muddy (I garden barefoot as much as possible). My muscles were starting to get that good, well-used feeling. When it was too dark to see I put my tools away, went in, scrubbed the dirt off (finding lots of scratches on my hands & arm where the roses fought back), changed into a skirt, and went swing dancing. “And God saw that it was very good…”