Okay, so I suck at this. Partly because I feel like I’m blathering and indulging my ego, etc., to chronicle my humble existence now and then. But I’m beginning to think, “Why the hell not?” Because who the hell will read this anyway but people who know me and (I hope) know I don’t have a stupendous ego to support. Just a normal green monster of completely average size that’s neither too hungry nor too self-effacing.
The fact that I’m picking this writing up again gives me the idea that I’m moving out of a creativity dry spell. A six-month drought of ideas. Well, there have been ideas. Just no impetus to implement. Or maybe they weren’t jazzy enough to keep my attention. And if anything got started, no sooner would my eye get dazzled by the next new thing and I would set aside that project “for later.” Whenever “later” might be. I’ve always been better at beginnings, anyway. Like the scarf I have been knitting for years. I had all the pleasure of that project from picking out the yarn and pattern. Then I never really got around to actually knitting… all that potential in stasis.
At least the gardens are at least all cut down. That’s one project I have followed through on and don’t have to beat myself up about all winter. What? Oh, the raised beds? Admittedly, there are still forlorn plants in them. Chard is still harvestable but the soil is too frozen to pull out roots and turn. One bed has been entirely taken over by fuzzy mint. It’s a lost cause to battle the mint but battle it come next spring is exactly what I’m determined to do! (And how did the mint get there in the first place?) But compost bins are turned, leaves cover flower beds, the grape vines have been trimmed and when I look out any window this coming winter, my eye won’t be drawn to unintentional scraggly plants mocking me from their snow drifted beds.