A friend of mine–who lives here, but isn’t from here (obviously)–posted on Facebook this morning:
My impersonation of most of North Carolina right now: “Winter is lasting for TWO weeks this year! George R. R. Martin was right! I wish it was humid and sweaty and terrible like it always is!” I love you nutty people, even if I don’t understand you.
On Saturday it felt like spring and the camellias in our jungle were blooming.
And I was starting to feel pressure to get our garden up and running Continue reading
And I do mean that literally: our actual backyard, not Chapel Hill or North Carolina or North America or Planet Earth or any other metaphorical backyard.
January was a busy month–busy with work and traveling to DC for work, and also busy with combating a cold followed by a sinus infection followed by the desire to hibernate for the rest of the winter (not that it’s been anything really like “winter” here this year). So I haven’t had any time to travel.
But not all adventures start when you leave your own driveway. And our yard is an adventure in itself. It’s the kind of place a child, or an adult who remembers being a child, or a hound, can find nooks and crannies and leafy forts to hide in while getting lost in dreams . . . and quite possibly getting physically lost too.
Here’s a pretty view from our driveway on a sunny day: