I like to watch the grackles puff up their feathers and walk funny to attract a mate. It gets me every time. It’s not quite as ostentatious as a bird of paradise, but amusing just the same.The grackles have been putting on quite a show here lately, even clumsily attempting their display from the tippy-top dead branches of the apple tree.
Today, I really need to outline my goals for the next month. I have been so focused on just a few very important things (garden, anyone?) that I didn’t realize, until everything had been checked off of my May list, that a vast cavern of abandoned caches occupies the rest of my mind. It is sort of like a disc that needs to be defragmented, this space of forgotten intentions. I will be doing that today — pulling together notes from my desk, computers, Pinterest, purse, journal, project books, and paper piles; consulting my date book for upcoming events of importance; daydreaming for a bit of inspiration; and (my favorite part) making plans. In my June future, I expect to see myself testing crochet patterns for autumn and practicing my embroidery stitches. There will be long days of priming and painting, followed by hours of standing with my hands on my hips and a smile on my face while I stare at the fresh spaces. There will be a birthday. The spring cleaning will get done.
Nearly every garden task has been completed. I have to say that I enjoy working in the yard with my man so very much. It seems like it is the most natural thing for us, a meeting of the minds followed by hard physical labor. He has also developed my penchant for obsessively checking the garden for new growth. I think that he is most keen on, and proud of, his asparagus bed. He picked out and bought the crowns, planned and executed the design, dug the trenches, and planted it all himself. I’m generally quite a control freak and I insist on being in charge of everything. This time, I wasn’t, and I’m glad.