mute_witness

My man and I own an odd little house (a third of which dates from 1789) in northern RI, on nearly an acre. It’s a dream come true to finally have unlimited gardening space, though it’s daunting when the possibilities are so endless…how many things will I kill? How much money will I waste? What will be this year’s carnage at the feet of the feathered steamrollers that are our clumsy chickens?

I am a CVT at an SPCA by day, garden slave on weekends and evenings. Often found skulking around plant nurseries, leering like a dirty old man in a bordello.
Well…except I’m not a man.

Gardening is like some sort of obsessive syndrome to me, from when the seed catalogs start arriving in late winter until it gets too hot and I get too lazy. In May and June, I cannot spare a brain cell for anything else! Later on I’m only half-obsessed…

I mean, come on- is there anything else in the world that fills one with such pride? And is there anything else in the world that also fills one with such disappointment?

In the winter, I dabble in crafts, play music(cello) and daydream about next season’s garden…