I love the smell of mulch in the morning. And the afternoon.

Weeding? Sort of check.

Mulch? Check.

This latter item has me feeling slightly more confident that my going away for a few days will not mean I return to find a garden of weeds and dried out plants. (We will most likely have someone stop by to give the thirstier customers a drink while we're gone, as well.) It is a curious concept, this drive thru soil and mulch pick-up business. Drive right up and through is easier said than done when one's vehicle is beastly and minivan-shaped. Mulch is beautiful, though, right? It smells like a lush, warm forest. I want to work in a garden centre. I want to plant trees in British Columbia. Dang, I love mulch.

I've begun what I hope will be a life-long effort to make use of the compost bin we inherited when we bought our house. Sure, I have to traverse a great jungle filled with blood-suckers - (and now, having arrived in what seems to be a bumper crop, what we call around these here parts "June bugs") - to get to it, but you say it's green and good for the soil and plants? I'm in.

Finally, we are departing tomorrow on a road trip bound for Gatineau. The Royal Botanical Gardens and Montreal Botanical Gardens feature prominently on our itinerary. My laptop is tagging along with me, so I may post as we go, or the yellow monster that keeps me connected to the outside world may sit neglected in my bag for the whole six days. Time will tell.