Eloise and I spent some time outside today looking at all of the early springlings. Daffodils, camellias, magnolias, quince --Everyone is waking up early; the crocus must be surprised to see them all.
Our garden is mysterious and magical to me. I don't quite understand how things grow, why they bloom or don't bloom, why or when or how to prune things...
We've been in our house a year, and in that year we've seen our garden through its entire cycle. We're getting to know the older resident shrubs and trees of our yard, and I am over the moon excited that the sacks of bulbs I planted last fall didn't get eaten by squirrels.
All I know is that I am grateful every day to have a garden. Our very own garden. I am excited for the summer when it will transform my girls into jungle explorers and fairies. The days have their ups and downs, but the garden out the window is constant in its change; a refreshing reminder that life moves along and circles around.
We've been in our house a year, and in that year we've seen our garden through its entire cycle. We're getting to know the older resident shrubs and trees of our yard, and I am over the moon excited that the sacks of bulbs I planted last fall didn't get eaten by squirrels.
We have paths of oyster shells, and a stump piled with stones. We have dandelions to blow and parsley that survived the winter. We are a lucky bunch, and I am grateful every day for the things that grow outside our front door.
