The first thing I did this morning was dig a hole in my clay-pack flower bed to compost my fruit and vegetable peelings that had been marinating for a couple weeks. I don't know if the decomposing peelings will help the clay soil much, but it was very satisfying to dig in the dirt and return my peelings to the earth. I used to compost my organic waste in a worm bin, but since the worms came to untimely, overheated end due to my neglect, I've not been composting. Time to start again.
The gardening bug bit, so I cleaned up another clay-pack area, repotted old plants, and transplanted eight herb starts I picked up at the farmer's market. After three and half hours of work, here are the results:
Not much in the larger scheme of gardening but a small step of doing something with what I had—some old pots; a bag of soil; some very neglected plants; a scant 25 square feet of shaded, except in the mid- to late afternoon, hard-pack; a basket of herbs from the farmer's market; old (toxically treated, I'm sure) boards I'd inherited from a former tenant; and a summer Saturday that wasn't oppresively hot.
This evening I stopped by the Bridge Party to hear a colleague sing in his barbershop quartet and to visit my former boss. The event is a fundraiser for the local preservation society. I didn't stay long but did get a few pictures after eating Pad Thai from one of the food vendors.
Then I came home to sit in peace on my front porch, cat in lap, reading until the light was gone.
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