Oh it's a long, long time from May to December--and seems even longer the other way around. The winter garden failed. Michael opines that we chose a place too much in the shade, and that is likely so.
On a sunny, warm March day I replanted the garden. Last week I ate beets and lettuce and three vestigial green onions. I harvested the spinach, too, but I plowed it back into the soil as pre-composted nutrients. It looked like something the earth would enjoy more than I would. Let's face it. I'm hopelessly spoiled with store-bought pre-washed velvety baby spinach leaves. This spinach was probably the stuff of Popeye's strength. It certainly looked like it! With sunshine, the spring garden grew just dandy.
Some kind of financial guru has been whispering in my ear as I go to sleep. Dave Ramsey coaches people to get out of debt and stay out of debt. He also talks real estate a lot. Somehow all this late night subliminal chatter has me house-hunting. I'll keep you posted on this adventure later, but at this point I have an offer in on a home at an ideal (for me) location. The sellers are happy, I am happy, however it seems to be taking the lender(s?) forever to make up their mind. I'm told this is the nature of short sales, so I am practicing patience and trying my best not to count my chickens before they are hatched.
I was thinking about starting to write again and I browsed through some of my old posts. I laughed. I cried. I clicked on links. I even sang. I really need to keep doing this. Who cares who--if anyone but I--reads it? It is pieces of my life well worth keeping.
