The joy of playing in the dirt….

The spring ritual of filling pots with colorful flowers was mostly accomplished this weekend. With each plant selected I was thinking of my grandmothers and mother, their yards, the care they gave to them. It’s funny how smells like potting soil and flower blossoms and the sound of water spraying into a watering can triggers so many memories in my mind.

There’s something very satisfying and comforting to me in participating in this little spring ritual. And I get to enjoy the results for months. When my hands are busy in the dirt, my mind is calm. It is very soothing and therapeutic. If I had the time and the money, I’d do a lot more in the yard.

We had a yard man help us for a couple of weekends…..pruning azaleas, cutting back vines on the fence, shaping up and transplanting sago palms, and extending the edges of flower beds along another section of the yard. He also reslatted a child’s wrought iron picnic table and a garden bench for me. I probably paid more for the wood and labor than I could have paid to replace the two items with functionally similar items, but replacements would not have been as decorative as the wrought iron frames I have, so I am satisfied that I got a good deal in being able to rehabilitate them.

I thank God for the years of following my grandmothers and mother around and participating in garden club with my mother in law. I’ve learned the names of many plants and basic rules of horticulture and design. It provides a satisfying hobby and a delightful way to reflect on people I love and how they’d touched my life.