Note to self: Doing manual labor out in the yard all day involves being in the sun.
Ah. Yes. I had forgotten that. It’s been so long since I did yardwork. And believe me, when one is the pale and consumptive* artist type, the sun is a baleful death star.
My shoulders and back have turned a lovely shade of pink that, were it a flower, would probably serve to attract butterflies.
I turned over a bed today, which in the clay-infested soil herebouts is quite an accomplishment, and took out mountains of bark chips. Then I planted it with lantana, salvia, and verbena, and threw a random pack of buttefly weed seeds in, just in case it chooses to come up. (If it doesn’t so choose, I’ll put echinacea in the middle later.) I am exhausted, and yet cheerful. I have earned that flower bed.
*Okay, a plump consumptive.
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