Leaf Liberation Front

Yesterday, I had a fun time in the garden. I'm trying to do one task at a time, rather than doing a little bit of all the many tasks and feeling overwhelmed. It's easy to get burnt out by the hugeness of what needs doing. For instance, I want to: -- build beds along the back fence (100 ft +), which means gathering truckloads of compost materials and layering them over newspaper -- go get more free Christmas tree mulch (see above) -- go get free barn trash from the stables (ditto) -- build new veggie beds -- build a bed for the roses I ordered (and get store-bought compost to amend it with) before the roses get here in late January -- start seeds in the office window (the columbine I forgot to plant in the fall, and tomatoes/basil before long) -- move the chipped tree trimmings to fill the trench where the bamboo was dug out -- build new compost bins/piles -- amend the so-called lawn, in the hopes that the grass will thrive and choke out the weeds (or at least cover the bare patches with something) Aarrrrrgggggh!!! So instead, yesterday I focused on two tasks: outlining the shape of the new bed on the back fence with a hose and some leftover rocks, and spreading around bags of leaves to be mowed into the lawn, and to cover the vast expanse of bare dirt left behind where they dug out the bamboo. It was fun, and I don't feel overwhelmed. I can go get more leaves as the neighbors put theirs out. That part is totally cool. It appeals to the cheapskate in me--free fertilzer! And it appeals to the science-fair geek part of me too. It's neat that you can build the soil with stuff other people throw away. Plus, when I spread the leaves over the bamboo graveyard, I feel like I'm spreading a soothing blanket over very wounded soil. I have hacked at that soil. Sad to say, but we doused it with Round-up (as judiciously as possible). I've hated and cursed at that patch of land, because the bamboo was such a tenacious foe. ("Tenacious Foe!" CDs instore now!) So now, as I kick around the drifts of leaves, I say "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, here...rest awhile." The leaves are beautiful. The ones from our front yard are brown and curled, just a memory of the brilliant crimson they were two weeks ago. Another neighbor has one prolific tree with little spade-shaped leaves in rose tones. They even smell like flowers--old, musty pot-pourri scents. Others are like dry, rustling shells, halfway to dust already. It looks like an impressionist painting all over the ground. One thing at a time, and don't worry about all the rest. That's a lesson I seem to need to learn over and over and over again. Guess I need to go kick some more leaves around...