The changing seasons got me thinking... for each year, there's one spring. One summer. One fall, one winter. At most, I'll probably live eighty- or ninety-someodd years. Living in New England has given me a new appreciation for spring and summer, and I've already let pass about a third of all the ones I'll ever see. That should probably spur me into my various projects with renewed vigor, but all it does is depress me.
On a lighter note, I'm envious of all the herbs growing around where I work. There's a big patch of broadleaf plantain, yarrow, ground cherry, Queen Anne's lace, lamb's quarters, mullein, skullcap... but I don't dare use any of it, because I work at a garage. Going to see if I can harvest some seeds, maybe, and get some of this stuff growing around the house. Not with my luck with seeds, but maybe I can disperse them and cross my fingers. Of course, even if they grow they won't necessarily do me any good. A lot of those I have growing in our yard already, but my husband mows them down! Need to get better at cultivating, so I can transplant and have them all in a little plot to mark off limits to the mower.
No comments:
Post a Comment