How lame has my life become that I’m now blogging about flowers that the 75-year-old neighborhood ladies grow?
To get to my garden, I have to cut through the communal garden behind our house (couldn’t get any space there!). It’s the extent of my activity these days aside from working — a stroll over to my patch to see if anything is growing or dying yet, or if anything is left at all after the nightly deluges that we’ve been experiencing the last few days.
On that note, some things are sprouting, others are withering. I’ll even the scales this weekend.
The old folks’ gardens are further along than mine. They have nothing but time on their hands to tend to the soil, and loads more experience coaxing things out of the ground than me. And they’ve got some great flowers — definitely the most thriving thing in this early spring.
By the time the veggies are raging, the flowers will be long gone. But they’re something pretty to look at while waiting for the delicious stuff to come along.
Things are otherwise chaotic but well around here. The reality of having two children has been ruffling my feathers a bit the past few days. As feared, Ray is becoming a bit more needy now that there aren’t a bunch of grandparents around to occupy him. I’m trying to be patient. Trying. Leo cries 23 hours a day, which doesn’t help matters. But we’ll get a routine going and things will smooth out. Don’t let my tone cloud the fact that I am incredibly freakin happy with my life right now. Wouldn’t trade it for a thing.
I have a bunch of yard/garden related stuff I am looking forward to doing over the weekend, and the weather is supposed to be beautiful. So to that I raise my amply filled glass of wine. Happy Friday!