Day two. My back is counting the days until this is done. It is very unaccustomed to spending mornings shoveling rocks, and spends the rest of the day complaining about it.

Unfortunately I didn't do as much today as I would have liked. I am reminded of the adage to go easy at first before ramping up into serious work; I know this adage, so why did I forget it? Instead, I went at things full-tilt, as I always do.

Today's efforts heralded the beginning of 'Spring 2001 Exterior Overhaul[tm].' Otherwise known as a bit of back-breaking effort on my part to greatly improve the exterior of this house. Most of this effort involves the complete reworking of the current flowerbeds, which are in horrendous shape due to some misguided choices by the previous owners.

Just when I thought I was done—just got an email from my mother. My dad's got to go in for some more tests on his eye. Apparently he's been having problems with blurred vision, and the doctor can't tell if it's an infection affecting his optic nerve or if he's had a minor stroke that is impairing his vision.

This afternoon's headache dictated a short rest. Or, at least, the attempt to rest. Since the cats had done their daily duty of thoroughly monopolizing the guest bed, I chose to curl up with a blanket on the couch.

A hard freeze is scheduled for tonight. My tender plants have been brought safely indoors, but I'm crossing my fingers tonight in the hopes that my irises—so perilously close to blooming—will not be terribly stunted by this last freeze. I'm hoping to get a few good closeup shots of the blooms to use as a potential thematic idea for domesticat, and I'd prefer not to have to wait another year.

Assuming the weather warms appropriately, I'll be doing a lot of work in the garden tomorrow afternoon. I need to prune our existing crepe myrtles and get a couple of the new ones planted. This will be entertaining—I've never been great at manhandling shovels and dirt, especially when packed Alabama red clay is concerned. Time to learn, it seems.If my life ever had a theme, I believe it would read thus: "Things need doing. Guess I'd better get to it, hm?"

Sunday. Welcome, once again, to the chilly basement office in the Morrills' split-level house. Jeff is on the second level, eating breakfast in the kitchen (if the clink of silverware is to be believed). We are, it seems, the only people awake in the house.

This room has a small window, set high in this room but low to the ground. In my view of the outside world I can see the camellia bush, still glowing pink with the remnants of this year's blooming. Even now, as the camellia blooms prepare to drop off, the bees continue to work the blooms for their last drops of nectar.