I have been feeling inspired to get into the garden lately - to revitalise our 'vegetable patch' (ie de-vitalize the grass that has taken it over and plant some actual vegies there for perhaps the first time since Liam was born), to at least think about how to wrench control of the front rose/camilla/bulb garden (down the side of the driveway) back from the couch grass, and most excitingly, to get on with getting a chook house happening so that we can get some chooks.
We used to have chooks - some Silkies and bantam Wyandottes - way back when we lived across the other side of Canberra. But one night we forgot to shut them in, and a wiley fox took 'em all.
Anyway, I've been feeling inspired. That's nothing new, I get this feeling every Spring (me and at least half the rest of the world, I know), but this Spring I am determined to act. In fact, I've started acting. Liam and I have planted some tomato and sunflower seeds, so that they should be ready to plant out after the last frosts. We'll plant some zucchini seeds in a few weeks. We don't have a very large vegetable space, so we'll add some spring onions (I've already bought some seedlings, some of which we planted in a big pot which was only half taken up with the garlic chives we've had going for years), and some silver beet.
The thing is, the garden inspiration comes at the expense of writing inspiration. Actually that's not quite right. It's motivation that's missing. I feel like there are only so many hours in a week, and most of them are taken up with parenting or working or sleeping. So there are only so many other things we can fit in. I've already told Chris that I want to pay someone to finish painting our deck. We did a half-assed job of a first coat last autumn and because we never followed up with a second coat it's already peeling. I'm sick of feeling guilty about it. And painting, unlike gardening, is not something we can really both do with Liam around. So that's the painting. But the gardening I want to do ourselves (although I wouldn't say no to a ready built hen-house).
On the upside, I'm feeling really glad about having deferred uni. I have loved studying - and I definitely want to get back to it next year - but it's so nice to have some time to think about other things. Not just the novel, but even the garden. And about maybe going down the coast for a weekend here and there. I hadn't quite realised how not-free to do almost anything the study was making me.
Sometimes I think if only we, Chris and I, were content to stay public servants for ever, to put the writing/Rolfing dreams behind us - wow. We would have just so much time. We're both trying to grow/maintain this second career on top of the first one, and it really takes a lot of time and energy.
Oh well, maybe one day we'll be able to dump the public service careers, and get more space to do other things that way. Or maybe we'll just have another kid or two and forget we ever had time to do anything. :)
