Dig

Dug today. Much more than I'd planned, but the more I did, the more I wanted to get under that rock. Lotsa rocks. Sifted and filled and laid down poppies and sunflower seeds, covered the bed with old leaves, once I finally got done. Thinking I'd better put non-snail-food plants on the north. The green onions are happy, so that seems to be the way ahead on that side. Alliums certainly.

At one point, both cats got out. I'd gone in for a moment, and apparently left the door ajar, and felines took advantage. I saw Eleanor trotting back between the houses. Then she scooted under the back porch, not to be coaxed out, even with treats. D got Moby scooped up without fuss. Eventually, she spooked herself back in the front door.

So, I tried the new harness and took her out later. She flattened down. Shuffled. I invited her back inside, but she decided to be brave and scraped down the steps. Bit by bit, into the front garden. Then between the fence and garbage bin, where I held the lead taught. Finally I grew tired of this, and tried to shoo her back in, but she bolted into the hedge. Nearly managing to get her harness off. I grabbed her wherever I could, and hard, pulling her through. Tucked her under my arm and brought her inside.

So, mixed result. D got the harness off, she ran around, licked up the remainder of some catnip, so I gave her more. She seems none the worse for her adventures, even hopped up for a cuddle shortly after.

Arms hurt, still itching to get out and do more. So much fucking plastic netting. But the veronica out front lives. Progress is pretty obvious, which draws me out, and keeps me digging.




Feeling the time change. Air is warm enough, but that wind is straight out of March. It bites, hard.