Sometimes, particularly in summer, I surprise myself at the end of a walk by deciding, impulsively and unpremeditatively, to just do something I’ve been putting off forever.
Yesterday morning I strolled home and suddenly decided to just clean out that unnavigable overstuffed “potting shed.” Told myself it would take just a few minutes. Of course, it ended up taking hours. And of course, yesterday was the first really summery day we’ve had here. It hit 90 before I was through. (And oh how good the pool felt, at last!)
Removed a large, mostly empty large wooden crate my Dad gave me many years ago (after confiscating it from a negligent renter). I used to keep dogfood in it, lately it’s been home to spiders and empty space.
Also removed that large platform I got from I don’t recall where, that I imagined I’d someday repurpose as a daybed for my Little House.
Now they’re both down the hill in the dog barn, to gather new coats of dust and house the next generations of spiders.
Threw away a ton of forgotten stuff, including a few broken pots. Younger Daughter’s moldy old Hannah Montana purse, and her doll stroller. Kept the little red wagon.
And a light bulb came on: the rapacious rabbits won’t eat elevated potted petunias, will they?
So now I have a “clean” shed and a fresh planting project. “A fresh seed sewn on the ground of the discussion,” Wittgenstein might have said.
And a new metaphor. Gretchen Rubin says projects are better than journeys. I like both.