I spent the majority of Saturday in my yard, sitting on the ground, wrist-deep in dirt and talking to worms.
No, it wasn’t the day of my annual Summer Party (so named as to distinguish it from the, uh, Winter Party), although I appreciate your imagination.
No, Saturday was the planting of the flowers, also known as I Spent 98 Dollars on Things Found Growing on Their Own Day.
Crazy, huh? Well, since our house is a duplex, the cost of keeping the place looking great is tax deductible, right? Anyway, it’s a matter of civic pride, like lipstick or anti-fungal creams. Sometimes one simply must spend a dollar to keep up appearances.
Anyway, a long line of farmers, women with green thumbs, and the good luck to have been born to a land that, at least when not frozen, is productive and rich has ensured the good earth in my veins.
The flower boxes have been filled (asparagus ferns and red double impatiens), the hanging baskets and big pots are done (pink petunias, sweet potato vines, and red geraniums), the gardens’ perennials have been supplemented with annual color, my nails have been packed with dirt, and a full day in the sun have my freckles dancing.
I do believe we have the prettiest house on the block.
Saturday afternoon? Baby, my work here is done.