A Mother’s Journal

Over the course of the weekend, I managed to get outside for a few glorious hours and work in The Little Wild Garden, only I’ve decided that this year I may not let the garden go so wild.  I’m sort of in the mood for something more formal.  Not that I can pull that off in any way, shape or form, but a woman can try.  A woman can dream!

I got one of the beds all cleaned up, removing debris still hanging around from winter, putting down just a tiny bit of mulch from bags purchased at the garden center (had to have something until the “official” truckload of mulch arrives) and filling up a birdbath that I brought from another part of the yard.  The birdbath has changed even since the picture.  Birds don’t like being so low to the ground, so I moved the top portion up higher to a really cool stand I found at The Scrap Exchange over the winter.  (Pictures to come later.)

I bought three little pots of pansies.  Three.  Only three!  Are you hearing me?  Home Depot has never seen such restraint.  Especially from me.  But there was a little conversation going on in my head:  Look, you can have a yard full of pansies or you can pay the phone bill.  Which will it be?

I disturbed no less than four little snakes, all coiled up in dreamland underneath the leaves.  Poor creatures.  They did not seem too upset with me.  Well one of them did.  The one in the picture actually.  See him sticking his head out, trying to get away?  The others just stayed coiled up and were happy to be put back under some leaves in another part of the garden.

Creatures.  You are here.  You will bring spring.  And not a moment too soon.

I trimmed brown, dead leaves off of the hellebores, which are blooming, by the way!  Be still my heart!

Another creature, a delicate wintery-white spider.  Incredible.   Where have you been, little creature?

“I’ve been hiding,” says the little white spider.

Looking through some pictures tonight, I came across a blast from the past, Miss Michaela sitting by the very bed that the little white spider was in.

How sweet is she?  Too sweet.  Just too sweet.  My baby.  Even when she’s 90, I tell her, she’ll be my baby.  Only I probably won’t be here when she’s 90, unless I live to be 125, so then I say, even when I’m 90, you’ll be my baby.  Only I may not live to be 90.  So I just say, you’ll always be my baby.  That covers everything. 

I noticed that in this picture the rock wall that borders this bed had not been put in yet.  Over time, the carpenter put rock walls up around every single front garden bed for me.  That was a lot of work!  A lot.  Remind me of that when you hear me complaining, okay? 

I suppose I should move on to a few other things that I need to do.  That means I need to stand up from my chair and go to another room.

Happy Gardening.  Happy Spring-Is-Not-Far-Away.