Like everyone else who dares to have a credit card and an internet connection, I receive tons of ads in my email. Most of them I ignore because I am not actively shopping for anything in that area – the Frederick’s is annoying because I bought one…count it, one…corset to get me through until I make my own historically accurate under pinnings and I keep getting barraged by emails that can only be called not work safe. Yet, I hang on to it because I am cheap and keep thinking I might, eventually, buy a bra or something on sale.
But, this is the time of year that the garden, fabric sale and spring dress advertisements come out. I have been hitting delete, thankfully. The spring dress ones are easy…is it just me, or have the dresses for the past couple seasons been particularly ugly? Maybe I’ve been looking in the wrong places…I like to buy one or two new dresses a year because once the weather changes and it’s hot out I tend to particularly love dresses…especially since, if you hit the snooze one too many times, you step into a dress, step into shoes, brush your hair and go.
The fabric sales are a little harder. Cheap wool? In my hobby, wool is awesome. Always period, doesn’t wrinkle much at all, and hand sewing it is actually fun. But I have sworn that until my fabric stash is a little smaller that buying fabric is out, unless I know exactly what I need and I am sure I don’t already have it.
But the worst ones are the garden catalogues. I live on a three acre slope with a flat spot for my house and a couple flat spots here and there for other things. It has woods, which are a mess. It has brambles, which are not fun to cut. Without regular tending, it can become a jungle with 5 foot tall weeds. I have allergies that might be poison ivy, and then again might not be, but I get it fairly easily.
That, and my ability to do a job becomes less reliable if I think I’m going to just go out and do it again and be miserable two weeks later.
Yet, every Spring, I am sure that *this* will be the year, that I will go forth and accomplish. Brush will be collected. Neat beds of lilies and other flowers will bloom. The horrendous weeds and thorny things will be kept at bay, up the hill. My yard will become a place of quiet contemplation with pretty shade trees and benches, where I can go outside and sit in peace and drink soda and read or write. Birds will chirp. The sun will shine. The air will be gently scented. Life will be golden.
And I start out with a will. My mother and I go out, determined to conquer. And, at first, it looks good. I receive boxes of things in the mail and I plant them. We go out to the local greenhouses and spend way too much money. The herb garden is resurrected. The roses are pruned and fed. Everything looks good. The lawn furniture is cleaned and set out.
And then, life happens. Medieval events take me away on weekends, and of course, mowing the lawn is going to lose out to playing with my rapier. Slowly, the only thing that gets dependable attention are the rose bushes and things in planters.
I start to get sick of having whatever rash it is that using a weed trimmer gives me. And it gets hot, and my attitude goes from “Yes! We will!” to “But I don’t want to go outside and work really hard and get a head ache and another case of the itchies!” Every once in awhile I resurrect my will, but it falters.
Basically, there’s always something I’d rather do. Like, re-do the bathroom, or gut my bedroom, or drive away and camp for a week.
So, the reality, is I end up sitting by a window with my soda and book, and reading under a fan.
And this year might be better. Miracles have been known to happen. But at least this year I didn’t order plants, so this year I won’t have wasted money on things that get planted in the ground, only to disappear. That’s got to be an improvement, right?