hands dirty

Basil (and more basil!), parsley, cilantro, mint, tomatoes, rainbow chard, romaine lettuce, carrots, zucchini, hot pepper, strawberries, sunflowers and five different kinds of annuals and perennials ready to burst in reds, oranges, yellows.  All this went into our wee urban garden yesterday. 

Each year, I forget how much I love getting back to the garden.  I love the planning.  The shopping - perusing endless rows of gorgeous flowers and reluctantly paring down my choices.  (I like the veggie garden too, but really, I'm all about the pretty.  I don't know how we live all winter long without the vibrance of flowers - unfathomable.)  And I love, love, love the planting.  The dirty, muddy, hands-in-the-ground, chilling-with-the-worms of it.  The smells of herbs and flowers and leaves and soil.  I especially love how the act of gardening feels like connecting with my mama - a gardener if ever there was one - even though she's two provinces away. And how excited my little 'helpers' get, watering their feet more than the plants, planting seeds insanely close together, and then accidentally digging them all back up.   The most disastrous and lovely gardening assistants.

It was a blissfully filthy day.  Full of sunshine and mosquitos and messes galore.  Perfection.