It’s my day off and I had plans.
Trim the browning irises and put them out of their misery. Cut the swamp daisies back a couple of feet so they won’t get too tall and topple over this fall (like they did last year, and the year before). Do something about whatever it is that’s eating the grape leaves on the arbor. Deadhead the roses and marigolds.
I could go on and on, but it was all related to spending the day in the garden. By the way, the marigolds in the photo (which I grew from seed) were supposed to be white but they look yellow to me.
The day started off well enough. I dragged my most comfortable chair from the sunny porch to the shade of the fig tree to sip coffee, contemplate the birds, and listen to the fountain. A mockingbird has made a nest in the arbor. I can’t see the nest, but judging from the number of trips back and forth clutching dead winged insects, I assume a family is living there. The normal morning visitors (cardinals, finches, nuthatches and chickadees) are conspicuously absent, but a large brown thrasher and several smaller brown speckled birds (maybe wood thrushes?) are enjoying my “No Mess Blend Birdseed.” I know there is a reason I bought the expensive stuff.
Then I started at one end of the path, trimming irises and pulling weeds. That was at 7am, when it was still a comfortable 78oF. As the sweat began to drip off my face and arms, I decided I needed a break. I had made it halfway around the path, working on one side. Just a short break and a glass of ice water… Wishful thinking.
The thermometer outside (in the shade I might add) now reads 102o F.
Some of the plants love the heat, but just stepping outside zaps the energy from my soul and makes me want to crawl up on the couch and bask in the splendor of central air conditioning and a thermostat set to 76oF.
And I haven’t moved in three hours.
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