The way things have been around here of late, I'm pretty unmoored from the calendar. Monday, Thursday, March, April, it doesn't matter too much. There's this lengthy progression of things that needs to get done, and they all need to get done pretty much done as soon as possible. So, day and date don't matter; what matters is that today is after trim painting, but it's not yet door painting, and hinge-cleaning may be a ways off yet. But, some calendars are impossible to ignore. Driving back and forth from rental to renovation, I pass by fields of camas all in bloom. They grab my attention more than any calendar (or calendar girl, calendar horse, calendar violin...), and remind me that it's been one botanical year since the Real Doctor and I visited Roseburg with the serious intent of moving here. We stayed at a B&B not too far from the house we're renovating, and drove to town on a road lined with camas and wild iris, all abloom.
A heck of a lot happens in a year, don't it?
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