I’m doing pretty shitty at the moment. Loads of crap on my mind and I just want to spend time with my plants. I can’t seem to get any decent days to relax and work (not really a contradiction when it comes to gardening).
I’m outside right now, and I can hear someone clapping and hoo-hoe’ing in the near distance as they move cattle. Birds are singing like mad critters, looking for their one true love for a moment. Best of all, an actual cuckoo bird has moved into the neighbourhood, and calls continually. I love it, as I miss the German cuckoo clock I grew up with.
But. Earlier, I was subjected to a massive attack by midges. They love me. Especially my face and ankles. I don’t love them, and I swell up like a cheap hose with a kink in it. It itches, it itches, and the wound doesn’t go away for weeks if I succumb to the itching and rub a hole in my epidermis. I’m quite likely to do this in my sleep – how lovely.
I’m now surrounded by: my own cigarette smoke, a haze of ancient Skin-So-Soft, two citronella tiki torches, and four citronella tea lights. I can still see the little monsters fly in front of my screen, too. I’m miserable but since my shed-house was taken over by a bicycle (the price I have to pay for being the primary car driver), I can’t sit on the Throne anymore to write and still not be in the house.
I love being outside. I just wish it loved me back.
All I have to offer from my garden is one single solitary columbine plant. Grown from seed last year, it over wintered just fine and I moved it to a bigger pot and coated it with aphid/greenfly spray a few months ago. It is happy indeed.