Bah! It's June 25th. There's nothing to do but sweat outside.

At this time of year I start to think that the only thing to do in my gardens is pull weeds. The crabgrass is a crabbing and the barnyard grass is getting taller than my four year old.  I'm hot, I'm tired, and I'm sweaty.  I've used all of the "finished" compost and there's nothing worth planting right now.

However, because I'm such a procrastinator, there's TONS of 'fun' things to do outside.

It's the doldrums of summer.

But, what I should be doing is thinking about next year

We've got plenty of rain, so there's grass to mow.  And, because there is grass to mow, that means that there is compost to make (pile, turn, rinse, repeat).  We're still eating, so there's still plenty of scraps to add to the grass to enrich the compost.  We've had plenty of wind (smirk), so there's plenty of twigs to pick up and break up and add to the compost.

Ah, compost.  I love it!

There's nothing that thrills me about gardening as much making compost.  Now I'm getting excited about being outside again.

Gardening's hard! Writing's harder...

There are two things that I love to do, garden and write.  There are two things that have neglected to do for too long, garden and write.

I've started a lot of garden beds.  I've started a lot of compost piles.  I have a drawer full of ideas for stories, blogs, treatises.

What I have are weeds (anything that grows where you don't want it, as someone once said), little hills of really rich dirt (mounded over by weeds), and notes that I have no idea what they mean (I'm sure they were brilliant and would have led to the next great American novel).

...I also have a desire to do more of both.


I've found that the only way that I will change is to be held accountable for that change.  I invite you to keep me accountable.

Thanks in advance!