It must be spring.

I had this odd thought -- wow, there's grass in my flower bed and I don't want it there. Then I bent over and pulled some of it out. Then, I thought,"hey, I should go get a damned shovel and dig the big rooted in alfalfa out" -- hay seeded I'm sure, but then I had this other idea...I should buy bags of steer manure, turn the soil and buy seeds of pretty flowers to put in all the bare treated soil. Way sick. Way wrong. I've got papers to write, manuals to edit, and tons of calls to make. But the smell of freshly turned soil turns me into the addict I am -- a gardening fool.

Spring always does these weird things to me. Because then I was looking out back at the apple tree, the pear tree, and the two peach trees and I was thinking how I need to get fruit tree fertilizer and the pruners and get cracking. Then I had chainsaw dreams for the ugly locust trees in the front yard, one of which when fully leaved partially blocks my awesome view of valley below and the Sierras. Then I was looking at my front yard and thinking about what a blank slate it is. I imagined the tiered raised beds with a little lavendar and sedum, with poppies and echinacea popping out all over. Then I think I had one.

I had a xeriscape orgasm.

Damn, I need a life.