I spent most of last Saturday on my hands and knees in the yard, trying to undo six months of neglect in one day. I made some progress, not nearly enough, but I really didn’t expect to. A lot of weeds can grow in a summer. I found one small morning glory that shouldn’t even have been open that late in the day, buried deep in the weeds. It gave me hope that something had survived my neglect. While I was crawling around, it occurred to me that this was something I needed to write about. Not my yard, but the reason it got in such a mess. Not because it’s my story, but because this is a conversation everyone needs to have. So this is my story of a summer of depression. You won’t find very much romance in it. Sorry.
If you’ve read any of my previous blog…