Awright, pity party’s over. Nothing to see here. Move along. Weepy Wanda has received her walkin’ papers.
Resilience is all around me today, and I’m grateful to have a house on a large lot with too-long grass dotted with dandelions. A single lavender tulip has suddenly appeared in the front garden, joining widely spaced double daffodils and hyacinth:
The ferns and hostas I transplanted from Mom’s house twenty years ago have gone from zero to 8 inches in a day, it seems. The fuchsia I brought inside last fall has miraculously survived, hanging on a hook above the breezeway radiator. I just hung it outside. Hope it’s not too soon, but fresh air does us all good.
I seem to be receiving a bit of free spring clean-up, thanks to the neighbor’s landscapers, who are diligently blowing leaves out from under my dogwoods onto the lawn next door. They’re in my driveway, so they’re not confused about where the property line lies. Maybe just concerned about the wind?
Angelic Daughter had a good sleep-in this morning and I had time to bake a yeastless bread for online communion today, a first for me and our church. Next time I’ll add some herbs or other flavoring, but it’s not really about how the bread tastes (which it didn’t taste like much, but felt nourishing, anyway.)
As soon as the masks are dry we’ll head out to pick up the new electric lawn mower. I supposed it will take a while to charge up, and longer to learn how to use it, but I’m going to give it a go.
Next week I hope to post a more upbeat playlist, one that keeps me bouncing on the bungee chair when I power through the last two hours of my workday, and I hope will do the same for you, too.
The sugar-snap peas are sprouting, and even starting to extend tendrils toward their pea fence. Tiny lettuce leaves and chard are coming, even in the problematic bed where nothing but self-seeded cilantro seemed to grow for the past few years. I know it’s probably too late, but I’m trying to start some tomatoes. It will be weird shopping for herbs at the garden center wearing a mask, but I’ll get used to it.
This is a long road, and instead of whinging “oh, the places I can’t go,” I’ll opt for the wisdom of Dorothy Gale:
The punchline we all know is coming is at about 1:02 – ““If I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with…”
These blooms are actually from my front yard, but same dif:
Wishing you a sunny Sunday, the endurance to adapt, and a way to find your heart’s desire in your own backyard, I remain,
Your well-rested, starting-over-again-each-morning, masked-mower-to-be,