This is my second fall of planting bulbs. Daffodil. Tulip. Paper Whites. Hyacinth. Crocus.
Memories of last spring gave me momentum to be extravagant.
It seems futile. My back aches, my hair gets frazzled, and dirt finds its way in under the gloves. I'm soiled and sweaty this morning. Instant gratification won't reward me any time soon. The bulbs and I wait.
Two hundred pockets of hope were buried in the dirt this morning.
When they burst out next spring, so will I.
Buried treasure. Buried pleasure. Buried dreams. The deep darkness grows it, knows it well.
9 comments:
Wow. Look at you! Two Hundred!
If I were your neighbor, I'd bring over coffee and a homemade treat after that much work!
Spring bulbs are fantastic. I'm so glad God made them.
I was doing fall chores today, too, but they weren't nearly as inspiring!
And without the burying and the darkness, there would be no blooms ...
I love the idea of memories making you extravagant. They must be dear memories indeed.
Do you hire out?
You will have to take pictures. I love when flowers are lush and extravagant and "pockets of hope". (Love your "pockets of hope" phrase, btw.)
Oh to sniff your yard perfume
in the spring...
would make my
nostrils
sing!
Blessings.
Wish you girls could have a garden tea party with me next summer.
My Bride is getting ready for the Spring.
She has that gardening instinct my mother had on the farm. It must be a "gardener's" thing I lack! But Oh the rewards I get all summer long! (:
ohhh boy... I'd come to a garden tea party!
A sassy squirrel was out early this morning trying to dig one up. Good thing I don't have a shot gun. The neighbor's windows would be shattered. I bought 2 huge canisters of pepper and sprinkled every spot where my babies are sleeping. :) Bad squirrel.
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