At loose ends

I spent a little time out in the garden over the weekend. The ground is too wet to do much, but I kept to the paths and cut a few ornamental grasses down and put up some mesh supports for the clematis. (I have 9 or 10 of them, but I can never remember the plural form of 'clematis.' Should it be 'clematises?''Clemati?')

I usually wait until the vines have formed a single, ultra-tangled mass before I think to do that, so I'm feeling pretty proud of myself right now.

This is the first time in many years that I don't' have a major garden project planned for this spring. No new beds (my back yard is covered except for a little patch of green lawn that I've left for future croquet games with my granddaughters) and my neighbors have yet to embrace the concept of front yard gardens, so I try to keep that area a bit more refined.

But 'no plans' is an odd feeling: A little like being at loose ends; a little like betrayal. (Though I have no idea who I would be betraying other than several retail nurseries!) Even though I'll be adding a few plants here and there, something feels 'not right' or missing.

I don't think I like it.