OT/OOC

Missed it again.

Yesterday was the perfect day. Beautifully sunny, warm, and moderately dry- the perfect day to leave the doors open (which I did), or to go outside and garden (which I did not, too much stuff on deadlines to do). The tree pollen stopped (so did that migraine) but the flowers hadn't begun blooming yet. The ground isn't quite frozen any more so digging can be done. I should have made the time to go out and get the herb garden in order or plant something in the front area that looks so absymal now that the bush is gone.

Today promises to be another equally sunny and warm day, but I have to close the windows. The flowering bush in the back yard bloomed as did the hyacinths in the front yard. I had the windows open for all of 15 minutes before the sinuses kicked in and suggested maybe that was a Bad Idea. Sigh.

I moved a LOT as a child. As a young adult, living in apartments, I moved a lot. I used to seriously long for my own garden (not of vegetables or useful things, but of flowers and herbs and catnip). When I was England, I would go on very long walks and peek at the gardens of everyone's homes. Where ever there was a bit of earth, someone cultivated it and usually it was very aesthetic. I don't think the English have what we would think of as an empty lot- a forest of weeds and trash and stunted trees. I was excited by the slope of our yard- slopes meant rock gardens to me, which are very pretty and easy to maintain once they are set up. The huge amount of slope we have would mean a very large rock garden and oh I could putter in it for years getting it perfect. The Secret Garden, where Mary asks for "just a bit of earth," was a very touching and compelling scene to me, and I understood her the most right then.

But I didn't bargain with these *bleep* allergy problems. It's hard enough leaving the house some days. Going outside and working in the dirt is very satisfying, but it's not much fun if I am incapacitated for days after about 30 minutes of serious fun. And it's not something I've ever felt like asking Jazz to do. He's not hired help I can command to do X or Y just so. I always hated being ordered about for such lawn work, and I don't want to make him do anything either.

So I just get wistful every spring. I want to be out helping things come back alive. But I like breathing more. I used to have an indoor garden, but not any more. It's very hard to have one when the cats have commanded the window sills. Oh well. I'll try to enjoy the spring more by watching the cats bathe in the more frequent pools of sunlight, and the dog just lying in the sun baking her old bones.  ¶ 7:21 AM