I just love my garden. It’s a lot of work, but the kind of work that is so worth all the effort.
In the spring and summer, it’s my part-time job, and for the weeks that fall between Memorial Day and Father’s Day, it could easily be a full-time position. Early June is when it all looks best, peonies, allium, geranium, lupines, roses, columbine, forget-me-nots and bachelor’s button all in full bloom. The view out my studio window is filled with flowers. And green that goes on forever.
We live in a tiny house with a big garden. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. From now until November, I will be outside as often as I can.
But even working isn’t so bad when I can sit here with this window open, listening to the birds, smelling the flowers, watching the sun crawl its way across the sky. I feel blessed, and grateful.
Tending this garden never ends. But neither does the joy it brings me. (Well, okay, except for the sore back.) I’ve learned so much about life out there with my hands in the dirt, lessons I don’t think I would have learned any other way. And there is always something new to see.
Just now, my eyes are wide open.