Enchanted (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chocolatepot) wrote2011-06-20 03:08 pm
chocolatepot) wrote2011-06-20 03:08 pm
It's very satisfying
Woo gardening! I have taken it up. I think I couldn't get interested over the past six years because even thought home was very much Home Base for me, it didn't really feel like something I had a serious stake in as a place, you know? But now I'm here for the foreseeable future and I want to put all of this effort into making it nicer. And our garden has been completely choked with weeds (mainly grass and sheep sorrel) for years - there's mostly feverfew that we planted for my mom to turn into dried pills or something for her headaches (and which I might experiment with as bug repellant), and black-eyed susans, and they've kind of traveled around. And a big bunch of phlox. So far I've
trimmed all of the irises, pulling out quite a few of them while I was at it because they're old and don't produce flowers and/or aren't where I want them, weeded extensively, cut down the shoots around the dwarf crabapple tree, and divided the phlox (tried to, anyway, who knows if I've killed it or not). I just got back from Country Power Products, where I bought something little and white and a red and white impatiens.
My first story of woe is from yesterday. I was cutting down the shoots when I realized that there was a nest of tent caterpillars at the base of the tree. I think I started shouting and wiping at my head in case any had gotten in my hair. Melissa took care of the rest of the shoots. D:
The second is MUCH WORSE. I left my gloves out last night, and at some point while I was gardening this morning I was like, "I can feel crud under my nail. Why is this?" and then I realized this meant I'd CRUSHED A BUG IN THE FINGER OF THE GLOVE WITH MY OWN FINGER. I took them off, kind of hyperventilating, and started turning the finger inside out. But there was nothing but a little dirt! Then I realized I was looking at the wrong finger, and when I got the right one I FOUND A BEETLE AS BIG AS THE END OF MY FINGER, I SWEAR. Possibly an Asian Longhorn Beetle, IDK. And there was stuff under my nail and I'm still not quite right.
Anyway! In less freaky news, I'm writing again. I'm at an awkward point where I wouldn't call what I'm writing YA but also wouldn't call it adult, and I think not knowing exactly where I am is hobbling me. Blerg. I may just decide to be writing adult fiction about slightly younger people so I can shut up and stop thinking about it.
trimmed all of the irises, pulling out quite a few of them while I was at it because they're old and don't produce flowers and/or aren't where I want them, weeded extensively, cut down the shoots around the dwarf crabapple tree, and divided the phlox (tried to, anyway, who knows if I've killed it or not). I just got back from Country Power Products, where I bought something little and white and a red and white impatiens.
My first story of woe is from yesterday. I was cutting down the shoots when I realized that there was a nest of tent caterpillars at the base of the tree. I think I started shouting and wiping at my head in case any had gotten in my hair. Melissa took care of the rest of the shoots. D:
The second is MUCH WORSE. I left my gloves out last night, and at some point while I was gardening this morning I was like, "I can feel crud under my nail. Why is this?" and then I realized this meant I'd CRUSHED A BUG IN THE FINGER OF THE GLOVE WITH MY OWN FINGER. I took them off, kind of hyperventilating, and started turning the finger inside out. But there was nothing but a little dirt! Then I realized I was looking at the wrong finger, and when I got the right one I FOUND A BEETLE AS BIG AS THE END OF MY FINGER, I SWEAR. Possibly an Asian Longhorn Beetle, IDK. And there was stuff under my nail and I'm still not quite right.
Anyway! In less freaky news, I'm writing again. I'm at an awkward point where I wouldn't call what I'm writing YA but also wouldn't call it adult, and I think not knowing exactly where I am is hobbling me. Blerg. I may just decide to be writing adult fiction about slightly younger people so I can shut up and stop thinking about it.
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