Lord I was born a ramblin man . . .

Tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best I can.

Spring has sprung . . . and then retracted. It's been beautiful here in the crotch of the corn belt for the last few weeks. I planted and sewed my seeds and plants only to see frost this morning when I woke up. Tragic. I think most everything will make it through this cold snap but it was disappointing to dash out of bed this morning and straight to the thermostat to turn on the heat.

Anyway, I've been trying my hand at gardening. I want pretty flowers, a green lawn, and fresh fruit and veg. I'm just not sure how dedicated I'll be in July when the humidity sets in and I can't be outside for more than a few minutes without beads of sweat forming on my upper lip. Time will tell I suppose.

My self-synopsis is pretty spot on, I tend to begin everything with lots of energy and excitement only to get bored halfway through and abandon it to the pile of lost hobbies a few months later. I've never been good at follow-thru.

Knowing this, I made sure that most of my plants are easily maintained and annual. It's much easier to get invested in something when you know you'll have it next year and the year after. I'd much rather have things constant than have things fun.

I can't believe I've just made an entire post about gardening as a metaphore for my life. This is probably boring. I can't tell any more. It's my life so it all seems important, even the rose bushes and fairy lilies.