And now for something completely different.
I had a plethora of Civil War related F topics to choose from: Frederick (the setting of my novel). Fredericksburg. Franklin. Top Five Feisty Females of Civil War Fame.
But it’s almost, almost warm out today.
We’re in what, April now? Spring or something, anyway, I’m still sleeping in plaid flannel and wearing double sweaters to work. I know. My sexiness is pretty out of control.
Today, though, as long as the car has been sitting in the sun for a few minutes, the temperature is a few degrees shy of 50. 50! A heat wave! Yes. I still wore both a hoodie and a coat to do the grocery shopping today. But I always have on a hoodie. A day without a hoodie is like a day without sunshine.
Anyway, this pseudo warm weather gets my brain thinking about flowers. And pretty landscaping. These are things noticeably missing in my yard. Here’s a picture of the “flower bed” outside our front door:

Yes. That’s a metal sunflower. In my flower bed.
Back when The Hubs and I bought our house–literally just moments before the market crashed–we (well, technically the person that isn’t me and shall remain nameless. Ahem.) decided we (read: he) wanted Land. Not a yard. Land.
Look, I grew up in the city. My idea of a yard is a space where a riding lawnmower can do a 3 point turn and have the entire yard mowed. I like concrete. Asphalt. Nature equates to large animals and even larger bugs.
In a moment of weakness and desperation, I agreed to a property with six acres of Land. Six acres of land and a shanty of a house, which actually didn’t seem like a shanty until we had a kid. Then another kid.
Prior to moving in, I got these delusions of gardening grandeur. This is the country! Country means tomatoes! Corn! Beans and herbs and blueberries and turnips as big as your head!
After moving in, the reality of the situation was clay soil that grows grass. And some weeds. But mostly grass.
I planted some tulip bulbs. You may notice there are no tulips in the picture. This is because deer, rabbits, Chupacabra, whatever ate them the first year. And then one year I dug some holes, filled them with potting soil, and put some flowers.
The dog peed on them until they died.
So, this year, I’m thinking about digging out the entire bed and filling it with soil. Then, I’ll plant some pretty flowers and for the whole 47 seconds we have of summer before winter rolls around again, we’ll have landscape-y goodness.
As distracted as we all know I am, what I’ll end up with is a metal sunflower and maybe a flower pot with a plant shoved in. A plant that I’ll, no doubt, forget to water.