A few weeks ago I expressed my love for the cute little spring weather sayings we all know from childhood. But I kept to myself how I always have a hard time believing the one about March, "In like a lion, out like a lamb." The weather at the beginning of this month was all over the place, with warm days, heavy rains, and late freezes. But today was the sweetest, mildest day I could possibly imagine. The saying came true. It was warm and sunny, the air was calm, and every one of us wanted a day of rest and play outside. After lunch, I couldn't stay awake to save my life, and I dragged the deck pillows out of storage, plus a thin blanket, and slept stretched out between two patio chairs. If ever there was an argument for investing in a hammock or chaise, it was a day like today. I wasn't the only one feeling the pull of Morpheus this afternoon. Remember the scene in Close Encounters of the Third Kind when Richard Dreyfuss and Melinda Dillon drove against the flow of the evacuation routes, past livestock who had been gassed to look like they died from a chemical spill, to reinforce the government's cover story for the aliens? If anyone had looked over my fence today, it would have looked just like that. Best nap of all time.
As wonderful as all that was, I had to get back to work today. There is so much to do, I can't afford a whole day off anywhere right now. I still have lots of bedding plants that need planting, and messy beds to clear. Last year I had a horrible problem with mosquitoes and spiders, and the scariest spider, the most aggressive, the meanest, nastiest father-raper of them all, lived between my gate and chimney. She pumped her legs and thumped her web at me anytime I got too close, so taking trash out through the back became a terrifying prospect. I cleared the bed underneath her hangout today, raking leaves and sycamore pods, trimming the dead leaves off the Kimberly Queen ferns, and pulling sprouted trees. I clipped a little dead wood off the hydrangeas, and found that one of them was working its way up through the holly, above my head, in a strange, beautiful pairing. And then I found the scariest thing: four gigantic, empty pods wound into the holly leaves. These were obviously what the palm-sized spider was protecting for months while she stayed there. It took a lot of intestinal fortitude for me to get close and inspect them, while bees were buzzing loudly in the holly, making me think something big and scary was going to come out of the pods and get me. I removed them, bagged all the debris, planted a bleeding heart plant that I'm super excited about, and then spread a handful of cedar mulch to prepare in the mosquito fight. It's hard controlling the impulse to go back for yet more lemongrass and citronella, when I haven't even finished planting what I've got. It will depend on how confident I feel when I use up the last of the leftover cedar mulch and go for more.
I'm enjoying being busy, but I'm having a hard time deciding that it's okay to put this much effort into something that is only for me. In a strange roundabout way, taking a few hours to truly enjoy the space I've made, helped me feel like I'm not wasting anything. That nap proved that having a deck arrangement like this works, and is worth the having. I need to keep at it for longer this year, to protect that investment. It will be worth the fight.
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