Swimming through molasses

Nobody explains that so many emotions aren't what we think they care. Courage isn't the absence of fear. Faith isn't certainty. And grief isn't really feeling sad all the time. It's a seismic shift in reality, a re-evaluation of everything's place in the universe now that something you've always believed was a "fact" isn't anymore. At least that's what I've read this week, which helps to explain why I can't get anything done, it all wears me out, and my usually sprightly thinking is slowed to a snail's pace. I have gotten a few things done in the garden, though. I built a new tomato bed, helped Mike pot up his carefully planted seedlings, and done some significant weeding. Oh, and my Georgetown Tea rose has a bud on it that looks near-to-blooming! That helps a lot. Status: -- redbed is just about in full bloom -- starflowers are peeping their shy little faces up from under the creeping rosemary -- Mexican plum is leafing out -- oak tree tassles are everywhere -- loralpetalum are a riot of pink, not quite the same as the redbud. My color scheme is working! -- lettuce is packed edge-to-edge -- weeds are everywhere... I want to have the discispline just to work on soil-building this Spring and not spend all my budget (which is strapped anyway) on plants that I have no place to put. I'm hoping I can beat back the weeds eventually with compost and soil improvement. It's a pipedream, I know. March has its fragile hopes and shy disappointments...