Forgetting and Remembering

When I moved into my house in Arizona almost 7 years ago, my backyard was a big dirt lot.  I chose to see it as possibility untapped, but then I did nothing with it for the next 5 years.  Oh sure, I had a lime, a lemon, and an orange tree, and I had pots of flowers here and there that I watered half-heartedly, but mostly, I left it alone.

In 2012, I decided once and for all, my yard was going to be done.  I planned it out, hired people, and voila!  my yard was transformed from this:

My big dirt pit

My big dirt pit

To this:

Yay!  Pretty!

Yay! Pretty!

I love my yard, and I’d like to say I take care of it, but I don’t want to lie.  From about March until September, I’m out in my yard, weeding, picking veggies, playing with the dogs, writing.  But for some reason, when October hits, I start neglecting it, and I don’t know why.  I can’t blame the weather because it’s usually pretty nice during the day, even then.

So why?  Is my brain just programmed that garden activities stop in the winter time?  I don’t know.  I even planted some beans and spinach for the winter season, then promptly neglected it.

I went out in the yard the other day, as if I’d just awakened from a long sleep, and wanted very much to get back out in it, to yank the weeds that grew up over the winter and clean up all the debris left my wind and carelessness.  I was sick that day, and trying to concentrate on resting, so I didn’t do it, but it’s as if something hits me in February, and I’m reawakened to the possibilities.

I’d forgotten, and now I’m remembering again.

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