I’ve taken to a pretty strict de-stressing routine at the end of the day. I moved an ottoman to in front of the sofa. Feet up. Under the Afghan crocheted (supposedly) by Grandma Marion. Hopefully, Fez by my side (but he really seems to be enjoying owning the corner spot on the other sofa more than cuddling with me). Watching a ridiculous amount of Great British Baking Show. Like three seasons in less than three weeks. Yikes.
Maybe the evening routine will change with the weather. It was 27° this morning. I’ve had to cover the garden beds almost every night this week to protect the seedlings. I’m not sure if it’s worth the effort since they have barely peeked out of the soil. Cannot risk the fresh veggies. I cannot wait for fresh veggies.
The beds are planted with snap peas, beets, spinach, kale, lettuce, and carrots. It’s a lot in not much space. That sounds like me. I’m trying to grow seedlings inside for the first time in a long time. I’ve never had great success, but things are okayish this year. There’s a bit of broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, slicing tomatoes, plum tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, rosemary, basil, thyme, green beans, and peppers. There’s a cold frame waiting for assembly in the garage. It just has to not be so cold.
My mind keeps turning to deer fencing. On one hand, it’s exactly what we need. On the other hand, is typically a sign of my brain running amok with frantic garden ideas. It’s hard for me to judge at the moment.
At home, the only fresh veggies we have right now is a bag of kale. There’s a couple of soft apples in a bowl that I’ll turn into a treat this weekend. It’s kind of unimaginable for me. Potatoes, onions, garlic, sweet potatoes, and some kale. That does not sound like my kitchen. Hoping for better luck with the next grocery delivery, or for it to warm up real damn quick. The worst part is that my parenting style pretty much depends on everyone taking a regular poop. If that’s messed with, we’re done for. Grow veggies, GROW. Then we can have carrot cake.