It is possible that somebody out there has been wondering how my gardening adventures have resolved themselves.
Everything has died.
My definition of housekeeping is: mastery of the things that are how, not what.
My interest in gardening is about how I want to eat--healthy, and with deep understanding and awareness. For the most part, we all have to eat--and wash dishes, do laundry, sleep, clean up. It's whether we wash the dishes every meal or every week that determines housekeeping styles.
It seems to me that having at least a little gardening in one's life is rather like clearing up after every meal--and like using a journal to sort out your thoughts before going and screaming at someone, and like bothering to take a half an hour calming down with your favorite Bach recordings before going completely insane, and like managing your time so that you actually do the things you actually wanted to have done. You know, housekeeping.
Everything having died, I've moved on to the logical next step; compost.
After weeks of exhaustive study and consideration, I've devised a magical and well informed bucket-based system that will (hopefully)lead to successful and convenient composting. Pouring from one bucket to the next will serve to turn it; black plastic sheeting will increase temperature to speed the decomposition process, and if I have to go buy bailed hay, I will get the carbon/nitrogen ratio right so the damn thing doesn't stink.
After all, we all have to throw our kitchen scraps somewhere.