I am dividing today between art and gardening.

It’s statements like that that make me realize my life is wonderful.

Granted, the only sunscreen in the house appears to have curdled, and I don’t know if expired sunscreen becomes Deathly Poison or acts like a magnifying glass and thus will result in developing third degree burns just from the glow of the monitor as I write this–but hey. These are small considerations.

Today, I plant in the bed that has stuff that we don’t know what it is, which means I’m throwing down seeds–echinacea, black-eyed susan, gaillardia, and coreopsis–which will hopefully make it the sort of unruly naturalish planting where any random good plants from the last owners that flower will look fine. We can’t turn over the bed without disrupting what appear to be a lot of bulb plantings, so I’m just chunking in seeds this year. Next year, if we hate it, we’ll gut the whole bed, but this year, hopefully we’ll get something butterflies will like.

My nasturtiums are establishing well, which gives me hope for seeds.

But first, I must wage a war of liberation against the lemon balm. I require secure borders against the lemon balm. Preferably terra cotta ones. If someday this leads to tiny seedlings gathering ‘mongst the containers and chanting “Mrs. Gardener…tear down this pot!” I’m prepared to deal with that.

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