The sunshine glaring through the windows creates a mosaic pattern on my hardwood floors,
light, dark, medium, tan,
bronze, beige, and brown woodgrain,
play in patterns on my dining room floor.
I look out my dining room window where last years garden looks like a dusty desert with crispy left over plants from last season. It is a brown oasis in the middle of a snow bank. I never got to pull it out last year because I was in the hospital (which I will write about at a later date).
I’m missing the days that Bradley and I would walk around barefoot picking peppers and watering the garden. I would also send him through a jungle of tomatoes, holding up a couple of branches, “Get the RED ones.” I was too pregnant to squeeze in there anyway.
I’m ready for spring. I’m ready for green grass between my toes and hot cement burning my bare feet. I’m ready for sun burns and fireflies. Mosquito bites and birds chirping. Lemonade and iced tea. Air conditioning and water slides. Flower gardens and steaks on the grill. Ok…forget spring. I’m ready for summer.
I was really debating on whether or not I was going to plant a garden this year, considering I am so busy with all these children. But I have talked myself into it. I managed to do it last year when I was big and pregnant, so I can do it this year with babies in tow.
I am ready to dig in the dirt, pull weeds, and eat veggies. I think the kids would also miss running through it to get the baseball and hearing me yell, “Get out of the garden unless you’re going to pull weeds!”
C’mon snow! MELT!!!