Preparation day dawns gloomy and wet as the bands of rain slowly drift north from the Gulf. I continue to marvel at how quickly the land recovers from long droughts. It is a feral land where the wild Texas prairie quickly reclaims abandoned farms and homes.
The rain patters on the roof, and the gutters roar with the water sluffed off the roof. The view out my window is distorted by the rivulets running down the pain. Dampness is in the air and I snuggle down into my chair using the cushions to ward off the chill.
Now the ground is a succulent green, even in the area along the sides where I mowed the ryegrass and weeds down. Further out, the wildflowers are all budded up, ready to pop on cue, and I am loathe to mow there until the first flush of bluebonnets and phlox appears.
I am starting to drift out of the winters doldrums with the lengthening days, and thoughts of gardens and planters begin intruding on my thoughts. Simplify is my theme now. Gone are the days when I happily trundled barrow loads of topsoil and amendments from bed to bed. Digging is out. Pots are in.
So what does a man do when he has nothing to do? He does nothing!