Toady was an unbelievably beautiful summer day – mid-80’s on my deck and not a cloud in the sky. For unfathomable reasons I was highly productive while at home.

I tarred the roof of our deck, which has had torrential leaks under even moderate rain. Now I only have to wait two months for some precipitation to see if I did it right.

I planted several starter pots, two varieties of fern, bell pepper, a flower, and two pots of mint shoots. Earlier this week I planted an extensive indoor herb garden with several varities of basil, dill, tarragon, sage, and something else.

I installed an eight-foot garden arch over my compost pile, which is currently the fructatious home of warring potato clans, egged on by mad garlic sprouts. A bit of morning glory has taken the side of the newer tater tribe, for now, and is stealthily entwining the largest of the potato bushes. I may extract the doughty fellow from the slinky wiles of the floral creeper and set vine to trellis. There she may have her way with an aged and infirm arbor vitae whose prickles have come to chap my hide on the way to and from the grill.

I disassembled our full-size bed frame to make way for a new queen-size mattress set, our first ever. The full-size was bought used when Viv and I first moved in together, twelve or more years ago, and was worn out even then. The delivery truck was slated to be here between noon and two, so of course they showed up while I was up on the roof, covered in stinking tar and unable to even try to disassemble the bedframe until I had a chance to bathe in mineral spirits and gasoline.

In betweentimes, I vacuumed, did the dishes, cleaned up dripping tar that plagued the deck throughout the day, rearranged large numbers of potted plants with an eye to locating appropriate in-ground planting locales, and went to Home Depot with Viv to pursue gardening-related consumerist tendencies.