The week that M’s school has some kind of testing that she doesn’t have to take, mixed in with finals that she does have to take is the week that I imagine life will be so much easier, because I can just leave in the morning while she is studying or painting or something productive. In fact, it’s the week that seems to involve driving back and forth and picking people up at odd hours. It’s the week I can get nothing done.
I’m addictively reading Elspeth Thompson’s A Tale of Two Gardens. It’s a collection of columns and I’m going through them like candy. It’s kind of like a flip book of a garden: seeds are sown, then planted out, the plants mature, it’s fall — over and over and over. Somehow it makes me feel like my garden is a process — if it’s not perfect this year, I’ll have next year, too, and the year after. And its not really too late to think about putting some peas in, or thinking about raspberry canes for fall.
Oh dear, the day is over again — hoping for better luck tomorrow.