One of the many perks of moving was getting into a place with a little bit of outdoor space that we controlled. We were hoping for a patio or a balcony, but we lucked into a tiny side yard.
Aside from an aborted attempt in Phoenix (who knew it would be hard to grow plants in 100+ degree heat with no sunlight in our tiny niche of a patio?) I haven’t really gardened since I was little. I have fond memories of growing tomatoes and cucumbers with my mom in planters outside the house. I’m hoping I’ll have more luck up here since the environment is a little more conducive to growing things. It wasn’t nice out for long – typical for the Pacific Northwest, of course – but I got enough time to get the peas and cucumbers and strawberries into pots.
Inside the house, I got a surprising amount done, too. Altar-tending is a little more intensive on the weekends, and I did all the weekly things today. I also did some chore stuff just because I felt like doing it… is that adulthood? When you go “I’m bored, I should sweep the floor” and “oh, look, weeds, I should pull the weeds”?
Did I mention that I dealt with the last of the moving boxes last night? That means it took almost exactly one month to settle in, but I’m pretty okay with that. There was furniture to find, and work of course. Today Amber found someone on Craigslist to take all the moving boxes away, and that freed up half the kitchen.
All of this sounds kind of boring, I suppose. But I’m enjoying it. And for me, it’s a pretty big deal, being able to pretend I’m normal.
hands painted with dirt
white roots, black earth, rain spatters
on terra cotta