Sometimes this time of year, I decide I should start gardening. You know, put my hands in the dirt, and feel the earth’s life force fall through my fingers. Plant something. Anything.
I usually head to the local farm and garden store, pick out 80 packs of seeds, head home with a hope of an abundant harvest.
About the time the garage door comes to a close, I remember I hate to garden. I want my yard to look like I enjoy it, I want pretty flowers and happy little trees, but I don’t want to actually do the work. I married a Japanese man for that very reason. I don’t want to get into the dirt. I am a water sign, not an earth sign. I prefer cleaning floors to cleaning flower beds.
So this year, I decided to be proactive. I refuse to allow myself to run over the brim with unfiltered enthusiasm. I won’t allow myself to buy into the idea of work that will never be…
I vow to only purchase the plants my husband can handle….and maybe just a couple I could plant…Just a few….
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