The truth is, my husband would say, is that I am easily distracted. Example: Saturday, I was weeding the brick-bordered bed and digging up old plants to put in annuals for the fall and winter. I dug up all the irises in the bed, along a Texas gold lantana. The irises will go elsewhere, but I called my sister, Billie, to see if she wanted the lantana. She did, and asked about some shell ginger I had offered her a while back. So I started digging up, or shall I say, tried to dig up, some ginger. The roots have grown so dense and deep that after an hour of solid digging, I was only able to break off three roots for her. I have a deep trench dug around the roots, and they still show no signs of budging.
Sunday, I woke up with a monster stomach virus and fever and chills and stayed in bed all day. This morning, I woke up better, although tired, and went outside to see what I wanted to tackle today. As I looked around the south side of the yard, my version of a secret garden, I had to laugh at what I saw. I have a bed waiting for new plants, partially-dug ginger, The Fairy climbing rose prunings I completed Saturday that need taken out back, a Peggy Martin Rose I planted Saturday that needs tied to the trellis and mulched, and empty pots in the herb garden that need filled. I counted at least six tasks already begun and none completely finished.
I don't mind. I can work on whatever my level of energy permits. Like today. I'm still recuperating, so I will go into town, as we country folk say, and pick up supplies: mulch, fire ant killer, plant ties and new plants for the brick border bed. Tomorrow, I will be able to take my pick of any number of works-in-progress.