Where do the weekends go?
Seems like Friday afternoon was just yesterday...
Saturday we had a graduation picnic for the oldest daughter who graduated from college last week. A few of her friends and lots of family and friends. About 30 people or so. As chief cook and bottle washer the food fell to me. Saturday was spent in the kitchen and by the time the party was over pooped didn't begin to describe it.
Yesterday I started at the farm at noon. There were numerous pots that has needed to be in the ground for some time that finally made contact with real dirt. Planted a flat of gomphrea (sp?) that should have been in the ground a couple weeks ago and dug a couple late daylily orders. And the weeds....I think that's what takes me so long when I'm digging orders because I end up weeding while I'm digging. You know how it goes, if you walk past something that just screams at you, you have to stop and do it. Only thing is, that makes the weed pulling rather erratic.
After about six hours of that I had to cry uncle. I have maybe a fifth of the field weeded enough to suit me. The rest I'll just have to keep plugging at.
It just seems like the weekends fly by. One minute summer is nowhere's near ready to happen and the next blink of an eye it's here and half over. What happened to those lazy hazy days of summer? Is it just a myth?