Growing Up Too Fast now has a vocabulary. He barks when he sees anything furry, he says ‘boo’, ‘Mama’, ‘book’ and ‘uh-oh.’ I’m waiting for him to say, “Yes, Queen of the World, most beautiful mother, I would truly love to weed the garden for you.”
I’ve had a subtle request from a distant friend to post new pictures. I thought the stunning neighbors were enough to do for awhile, but apparently not. I’ve tried to find the snake, but it’s camera shy. So, I’m posting before and after shots. Not of me. No one needs to see me before or after. I’m posting some pictures of my true love, my child who never argues, although it is often headstrong and willful. My garden. The before is in January, my “don’t clean up for the season” method of gardening. I’m going to say that the dead plants add structural interest in an otherwise grey monotony. The other picture is the living garden. I did have a tomato spring up voluntarily. Which may be my new method of gardening. The “close your eyes and hope the good plants pop back up” method.
My neighbor is German. She rakes her yard every week. When the snow falls, she spreads it in an even layer over her yard. She can’t help herself. She loves me, but I’m also the bane of her existence. I’m striving for an English garden look to the front yard, which currently means that the daisies bloom like mad for a month and then the dandelions take over. I figure, eventually one or the other will win without my interference. The other day, my German friend said, “That’s right, Mama, just keep pulling out the weeds. You’ll get an English garden that way.” That’s her gentle way of saying, “Pull the stupid weeds, you lazy butt.”