Dream with Our Eyes Open

Yesterday I spent close to two hours digging out of the bottom of my compost bins. Last year, when I was out of commission, the Mr. did it, and he just piled it up near the bins. I don't know whether that encouraged the evil English ivy to grow into the bins, but the older bin, especially, was a wad of tiny rootlets, and it was hard to get anything out. Still, I got out about a dozen pails-ful, and poked and turned the upper stuff a little so that it fell down into the empty spaces I'd just made. Then I started planting bulbs, with lots of nice compost in the holes, but didn't finish. I have 30 narcissus (3 kinds), 20 crocus, 20 miniature iris, and 10 squills (pushkinia). The narcissus need to be 4-6 inches inches apart from each other, and the ground is tough - it's ground that's now getting some sun since the big dead oak came down and no one's dug in it for decades at least.

So today my hands and forearms are all stiff and sore. But I was outside in the daylight for about 3 hours, so that's got to be good. I hope to plant the rest at the end of the week, when I'm off for Thanksgiving.

And on Saturday I got a therapeutic lamp for phototherapy for Seasonal Affective Disorder. Man, that thing is bright! I have it in the kitchen because the first thing I do on weekdays is made breakfast and pack lunch for the Young Lady.