So, I’ve pretty much let my garden go.
It’s not for sheer laziness, I swear. We were supposed to have the backyard gutted and re-graded this summer, so it didn’t make sense to put too much effort into making it look good. I moved most of my backyard plants to the front garden, so the landscapers could backhoe or bulldoze or otherwise wreck the place without hurting my irises and white Echinacea. I kept my vegetable garden tiny: tomatoes in pots and some herbs in a planter. I let the weeds grow, because it was all going to be pulled out soon anyway – why put in the work? Unfortunately, as is usually the case with big projects, the start date kept getting pushed back. Other problems needed fixing – with money – so we’re now almost in September, no closer to finishing the backyard project.
And you know what? I’m okay with that.
Because this has been the busiest summer I’ve had in years. We’ve welcomed tons of houseguests in the past four months, and we’ve been booked almost every weekend in between. Dinners and games, wine and friends, housewarmings and weddings and birthdays. Who knew I’d develop a social life in my 30s? There just hasn’t been enough time or energy left over for me to worry about anything but the basic necessities. I’ve kept us eating off of clean dishes and wearing clean clothes, so we don’t need to worry about plague, but outside appearances have been left to fall apart. The front yard is marginally better than the fenced-in-and-hidden backyard, which is probably the only reason the neighbors haven’t yet left passive-aggressive notes in our mailbox.
So, please, if you pass by my house and judge me by the state of my yard, know that it’s that I’ve been more busy bee than lazy slug.