Lately I've been feeling pressure. It's almost entirely self-induced. True gardeners, (people like me, who think about plants all the time and bore other people to tears who actually posess the ability think about other things once the ground begins to thaw) feel this way on occasion. My mind has been a whirl of things to do, things that are of the utmost priority for me, and sadly, of no consequence at all to my family.
I don't think anyone else around here shares the same kinds of first and last thoughts of the day that I have. "Where should I move that hosta?" "Is a Serviceberry really the best tree for the back perennial bed?" "That spirea that's bugged me for years, should I ditch it or not? If not, where the heck to put it?" "I need to rotate the tomatoes to a different spot in the garden to avoid blight, but where?" Gosh, does anybody, anywhere have those same kinds of first and last and in between thoughts?
The male faction of the family (everybody else but me and the dog) likes green things and fresh vegetables from the garden, but are totally carefree about how things got that way. They do yard chores that involve large manly power tools that I'm generally too weak to use or too uninterested to operate. For example, I hate the big weed whacker. But it's pretty magical, even if unbearably loud, in the large growing hands of a 15 year old son. And said son has just gained a healthy 22 lbs. in the last 10 months on his nearly 6 ft. frame. It's wonderful having a Jr. Hunky Man around the house, even if he does pick on the little guy too often. I should get him a t-shirt that says, "Will work for even more food." or "Will work for Lasagna and a ride to the movies."
I, on the other hand, feel pressure. It's the pressure of long cold months coming to an end. Everything in the garden vying for my attention. Plants that need separated, soil that needs amending, shrubs need replacing (beware of Euonymous scale, nasty thing, that.) Combine that with my real job of taking care of my family, and the family has been on the short end of the stick. My younger son took to wearing black socks with shorts the other day because he ran out of clean socks days ago.
I have been blessed with several days of cold, a little snow and a brief return to winter. Yay! Everyone else is griping about it, but I am relieved! I scrubbed my kitchen from top to bottom (I plead the 5th as to the last time before that the floor was mopped) and the dryer has just buzzed with the 7th load of laundry in two days and the grocery shopping is done. Apparently, my family isn't as interested as I am in eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while still wearing gardening gloves.
Now I must start to sew. We have the family hobby of 18th Century Living History and I sew all our costumes. Well, Jr. Hunky Man has outgrown everything and looks like a character from Oliver Twist with shirt sleeves up to his elbows. So new shirts and breeches for him. I start on that today.
Oh, but the sun is trying to peek out.... but it's still only 32 degrees. I need to pull the shades and get some other work done, lest I be tempted to bundle up and split that hosta...