Sunday

Sundays hardly ever are slow and glowing like they sometimes were. They should be sweet and dreamlike. Blankets and books and strolls through the garden under blue skies. They should always have that iridescent beam of sunlight cheering the day through to Monday. They dont always. But today the healing warmth of the last hours of freedom were Sunday-like.

frolicking in a late winter snow

green thumb

It is still winter indeed. Morning frost blankets every growing thing. 

And yet I have been dreaming of my garden growing this Spring. All the things Ive wanted for so many years have an opportunity at last. For the first time in the history of my gardening en devours I have more room for rows, space for chickens to roost and years and years to watch planted trees develop and let the perennials establish themselves. A place to harvest herbs and pick my own pumpkins! I am elated and already a plan is in the works for what to begin and where. Garedens are a slow progression so the planning has become a bit of an obsession. Each time I glance across the creek or to the woods   behind the house I am picturing heads of lettuce in rows and little wooden benches and archways draping with wisteria.

Stay tuned.

This project shall be a fun and exciting one.