Yesterday began as a lovely Sunday morning. I had thought I would commune with nature and plant the flowers that I had bought well over three weeks before that still remained in their plastic quad packs. Gorgeous day… I changed into my red sweats and ugly white tee shirt and sat on the patio for a time; drank a little coffee; contemplated solitary patio life; contemplated what it would be like to have the life of a dog and only run and chase balls for a living. Ahhhh the life of Magdalena.
I started planting the flowers that I had ignored for a few weeks, I felt guilty as I had to throw away several of them that had been neglected beyond repair. I am not exactly sure whether they were wholly and fully neglected, or whether or not Scooter peed on them. It could be either… just sayin’. I got all the flower pots planted, weeded the side planter, swept and washed the patio down.
There is something about planting my garden that is fulfilling to me. I don’t know whether it is the feeling that I am starting something fresh and new, or whether I like to nurture and watch it grow, or whether I am anxious for tomatoes. I just know that year after year I plant my garden with great anticipation.
This year I decided that I really should plant my life garden. I want to do it with the same level of anticipation, excitement, and hope with which I plant my petunias, tomatoes, peppers, and marigolds. I am tired of solitary patio living. I want to travel to a romantic destination with….. someone. I want there to be a PaPa in the Grandma realm. I guess that as much as I am really good at making marinara, gazpacho and salsa from my garden, I am less successful in the cultivation process of my life garden. I need to work on that.