That is, I believe, a black raspberry. Thorny fucker. Not looking forward to tying that one in.
It’s turned into a dry spring, which means I have to get up earlier and water the plants in the morning. Evening watering just wakes up the slugs, and after the British Slugpocalypse of last year I’m taking no chances. It devastated the place.
OPERATIONS: End of the financial year. I’ve coasted a little bit this month, now it’s time to step up a gear. Still not working at full capacity, mind you, but I like having the space to breathe, these days. Currently going through the boards and logbook to calculate how much new work I can take on. Filled half of a project-specific notebook last night – I have a feeling that one will take three notebooks just to surround it.
STATUS: I have a ton of plants arriving today. Let’s see how long they live. Last year the slugs ate lavender plugs, which is supposed to be impossible. I read that last year one poor woman lost a three-foot-high plant to the bastards. We also have a demented urban fox that eats daffodil flowers now. Someone on the street is feeding him eggs, and he eats them in our garden and then devours flowers for dessert like he’s Heston fucking Blumenthal.
READING: THE PRACTICE, Seth Godin (UK) (US)
LISTENING:
THINKING ABOUT:
Believing that we’re owed something is a form of attachment. It’s a foundation for us to count on, a chip on our shoulder for us to embrace whenever we feel afraid. No one owes us applause or thanks. No one owes us money either.
THE PRACTICE
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