Forlorn

Sluggardly I act, put down IGR, Insect Growth Regulator, with D's efforts in equal part. Bait gel applied yesterday, multiple loads of dishes, some tamarind found leaking - "well, there's your problem." Laundry done, at least. Cleaning to come before bed. Roach abatement in progress. Focus of their intrusion discovered, cleaned, cleared, baited. Shit and dead discarded.

Got down more sunflowers, those lovely and vicious creatures. Promised myself ten, at least that many, lying on the verge to catch leaves and refurbish the soil until spring. Many scrapes along my shins from their spiny stalks. They pulled me down among them, upturning my balance, near the hedge. They do the soil a world of good, the birds love 'em, pretty and all, but beneath that they are tough and rough and muscular, not to be messed with. D smeared anti-biotic ointment on my abraded skin.

Craving a cold wet winter, but the climate is buggered all to hell, so it is a forlorn hope. Getting rid of two more weedy trees, to allow a back garden next summer. Pulling in greenish tomatoes to ripen on the sill, two at a time. Tree guys to be called after that fruiting is done.

Disappointments on the gardening struggles, lack of light and excess of predatory bugges and snails, seeds ungerminated and raised beds unbuilt, compost pile a mess and fence area a total loss. Still, strawberries flourishing in front, new grass sprouting and buckwheat re-seeding for the autumnal cover crop. Hope and despair together twining.

Burning good incense, the AC on for D's comfort (fighting a viral fling) waiting in faint desire for a cold snap and moisture.