Season of Dreams

 

I am a terrible gardener. But that doesn’t keep me from dreaming.

 

Every year about this time I look out over my snow covered yard and imagine it in the full onset of spring with the many colorful blooms, the lush plants in different greens, all thick and abundant and smelling of the earth. Beautiful. I page through my seed catalogs. I order some of this, order some of that. Then, just because I can’t wait any longer, I run down to the seed store and pick up some starter contraptions like Jiffy pots, dirt, more seeds. As I stand in front of the many envelopes of flowers and herbs I tell myself this year will be different, this year the yard turns into the place in my mind…

 

I used to blame the state of my yard on my dogs, and I would tell them as much. ‘Mommy could grow a beautiful lawn and have flowers if it weren’t for you ladies. That’s ok, I don’t mind. I’m just sayin’.’ But this will be the second spring since the girls have gone and I now I must face reality. It was me all along. Mommy apparently can’t grow anything.

 

Well, I can grow native plants –somewhat- because they don’t need anything from me. They live in my area and so they just are which makes them more attune to my level of gardening. Unskilled. I have probably planted nineteen acres of grass, at least five acres of flowering plants and a truckload of potted beauties but you would never know that by visiting my yard. It’s a bit of moonscape what with the one dogwood over there, two ferns back behind the birdbath and a hydrangea way over on the other side but none of this dampens my enthusiasm because this is the year it all comes together. All those little seeds will grow, sprout and cram the yard with undeniable abundance. So much plant life will be out there, it could be hard to stroll around out there. In my dreamscape.

 

I have talented friends. One in particular who lets me come over and pick slips from her coleus plants to nurture, even though she knows I’m going to be their demise. She makes gardening look effortless. Her yard is filled with all sorts of plants I know I can’t possibly grow... I’m very certain she could plant a pencil and an oak tree would grow.

 

My sister brought me a huge coleus plant last year, beautiful colors in a nice pot. All that I had to do was set in an appropriate place, but by the end of a month it looked grossly unhappy….I blamed that on the squirrels.

 

But, like I said, this year will be different. I shall once again plant my dreams in little pots all over my kitchen. I’ll talk to them and nurture them, make sure they don’t get too cold or too wet or too dry or too lonely. And all the while I will see my future yard in all its glory and say my affirmation.

 

 I am a wonderful gardener. I am a wonderful gardener. I am a wonderful…

 

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