. . . were almost finished

cleaning up the garden plots. I have one more spot to rake out and then I have to chomped up the leaves and spread the resulting compost around. I found a bunch of big fat juicy worms hanging around, which is always a good thing. A toad that I thought was a rock scared the crap out of me the other day. It's weird when a rock moves in your hand, isn't it? The toad hopped off into the base of an evergreen bush just as the neighbor's cat discovered it. The cat seemed to be a bit confused that a rock would hop, too. I started digging up a whole patch of garden phlox that had taken over a large part of the garden. It's pretty when it blooms, but the deer eat it and it has invaded and taken over the surrounding plantings, so it's got to go. The roots go deep and it's hard work. The bigger hunks I will replant out in the green belt between the house and the golf course. The phlox can naturalize and grow as wild as it wants out there. One of the bits of nature that fascinates me is how weeds and other seeds snuggle right down next to and among the shoots and roots of "good" plants, so that you have to dig up the plant to get rid of the weed. Natural self-preservation. . . you gotta love the tenacity of those weeds.


In between bouts outside, I finished the painting above and I have started another one. I'm going for color, color, color. I want it to stand out on the wall. I want it to be happy. This picture is crooked, but the painting isn't. The inner critic is screaming at me. . .