(Almost a candidate for the band name list. Maybe one for an album title list?)

It felt good to be doing something visceral. Maybe "good" isn't the right word. Tranquil? Meditative.

My hands smell of soil. Even after washing them, that brown, loamy scent remains. Earth smell.

Claritin: better living through chemistry!

The weed harvest went splendidly.... dandelions: a bumper crop, as always. Ground elder: is this stuff edible? I could be shipping it to third-world nations. Clover: a state of detente. It can have all the lawn it wants, as long as it stays out of the beds.

Breakfast was oatmeal (tasty and expeditious.) Mom (who's visiting for a couple weeks) told the tale of Grandma (who died last year), and how she liked oatmeal, but was adamantly opposed to instant oatmeal. Not the right texture. Agreed. I told her of McCann's Irish Oatmeal (how apropos!), which is cut, not rolled. Hence, it takes a very long time to cook, but the texture is otherwordly. And it comes in nice tins.

I'm thinking of making a "which weed are you" quiz.