Don’t hate me, hardy and intrepid folks who live in snow country, but it felt like spring around here this weekend. Â And it was nice.
I hasten to add that the only reason that I can enjoy this warm weather without guilt is because rain (lots of rain) is predicted for later in the week. Â I hope it’s true, because California is thirsty. Â But it was lovely to have balmy temperatures and sun and blue skies, and to have the following spring-y experiences.
1. Â The tapestry of color at the nursery. Â I wanted to buy it all, but I contented myself with three six-packs (I sound like a frat boy, don’t I?) and one large multi-colored snapdragon.
2. Memorable little-boy observations. Â There was a flowering pussy willow tree at the nursery, and Â I called the boys over and had them touch it. Â “Doesn’t it feel like a cat?” Â I asked.
“It feels more like a dog,” said my younger son.
“I’m glad it’s not a real cat,” said my first-grader, “because I’m allergic to cats.”
3. Â Dirt therapy. Â The boys and I weeded, I pulled out an old dead straggly penstamon, and it just felt so good to be digging again. Â Bringing color and prettiness to a tiny corner of the planet does a lot for one’s mood.
4. Â Spreading the gardening love. Â The boys helped me plant the tiny blue and purple violas and raspberry-pink bellis. Â “Pat the dirt down around the plants,” I told them, “and tuck them in tight.” Â Luke was quite taken with the experience and called his little section of flowers a “family.” Â I looked over at one point to see him holding a tiny plant to his cheek and smiling.
I know just how he feels.
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