
Seen on our walk yesterday.
All of the plants for the “pollinator pockets” I’m planning for the two raised beds we prepared last month are crowded into three-season room. It’s a beautiful mess — and hell on my allergies. “They” say that the last frost is behind us, and the warming trend begins this weekend, so I hope to plant early Sunday morning. In the meantime, I’ve mulched the other beds, repaired the borders, tidied the patio, readied the containers for perennials, repaired a few bare-ish lawn patches, removed all the feeders, and, yes, already mowed. Twice. (Hey, when you keep the grass a little longer, it’s critical to keep it tidy.)
And now that I’ve typed this, I realize I’ve procrastinated long enough. It’s time to practice my music. Our concert date approaches, as do this semester’s final three private lessons.
Such productivity! I have looked at my lawn and thought, I should do something about that. Then I shrug, open my book, and take another puff on my cigar. By the way, I am not sure if the well wishes are the same for musicians as thespians, but break a leg!
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Many thanks! I’m a little nervous but fairly certain all will be well.
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