I've said it before, and I'll say it again: gardening is therapy for me. I've been been doing a seasonal clean-up the last few days. The scent of lavender, rosemary, and mint are still on my hands as I type this. And my tongue remembers the spicy taste of arugula from thinning the patch.
A number of things have become established structural elements: mexican sage, a cube of lavendar, a blob of oregano. The kangaroo paw is putting out its first flowers this year; they should be open in a couple weeks.
And of course most of the garden area I like to prepare for vegetables. My compost is decomposing and making good soil, but its not enough for my garden size. This season I plan to hit the city compost plant and pick up the free compost they offer to dig into my beds.