with a broad brush

The abrupt change of seasons couldn't have come at a better time. Lately I've been living for the weekend, and this was a convincing argument in favor of that generally misguided attitude. It began with breakfast on the patio, of course, an indulgence that is worth many undone chores.

Shortly after Gven came home from her morning classes, I went to a drum circle at the rec center and reconnected with that creative, loosely cohesive group. Pretty soon they will begin congregating outside in the park, and that will likely change the dynamics considerably, which might be a good thing.

The backyard potluck for a men's group member visiting from Santa Fe was comfortable like an old pair of shoes. The presence of spouses and significant others makes it a very different gathering from our serious weeknight meetings. One of the guys had just come back from ten days in Russia; another is about to move to Arizona. I think we will stay in touch.

Next morning: coffee and fruit on the patio with the Times. Must get a jump on the weeds. Maybe I can place the trunk of a spruce tree along the edge of the vegetable beds as a border. Eventually I'll move stacks of sticks to the woodshed for next year's kindling.

It's about time to change out the compost with shovel and rake, the first stage of soil prep in the veggie beds. There are bare spots where something should be growing, and there are crowded spots that need to be thinned. In other words, I will move things around. I have big plans, but here I sit.

This is the hands-on, labor-intensive, time-consuming part of spring when the forces of earth and sky won't wait. Groundcovers are jumping out of the ground from all that rain and all this sunshine, and so are their competitors the wild things humans call weeds.

I'm the new sheriff in town. It's my job to eliminate some of the competition and make it easier for the more privileged sentient beings to flourish. Maple seedlings, dandelions, and wild strawberry are deported to the compost; ajuga, vinca, and lamium have their green cards.

So I did a little of this and a little of that and kicked the big projects down the road. Painting the garage will take three weekends and counting. Gven put a coat of primer on the side today. The mysterious door-shaped piece of sheet metal was removed, revealing nothing but perfectly good wood siding underneath.

Nobody said this was going to be the most efficient farm on the prairie, but it has to resonate with a rhyme or reason for this or any project to make any improvizational sense. Today was like a dab or two on the coarse fibrous canvas, hardly enough to make a dent.