I have been a bad blogger. And you my friend have come here looking for words from me. The words are too quiet. No inspiration. I think about a topic and it dies a withered death in the dark space of my little writing heart. My word womb is barren.

The rains have kept me from taking flower pictures in my garden...that is running rampant with weeds. I could try to weed, but the clinging tendrils of root refuses to give up the ground they have burrowed into. Therefore I remove more of the precious soil from my garden than the nasty little rooting greens that run amok of their own accord. Is that redundant? All this might be a plot of Mother Nature hatched to take back the tilled ground of my flower garden and return it to a savage forested state.

My hoe and I shall prevail. I will have new gloves and sharpen my blade (okay that was just poetic license, the blade to my trowel is quite dull actually) and I shall over come winter's devastation of my garden... and the lawn next to it.

And then I will hot tub. There.
Sith,
Cele