For nearly my entire life I have always loved winter. Even after we moved to Texas, where winter is terribly short, I loved winter. I loved the short days. Every day started early and ended early. Chilly nights, cold mornings, snug as a bug in a rug. Night time was good time. I loved the night sky and even memorized the winter constellations.
Then I started growing things. Grass. I have a yard. Two actually. A “front” yard and a “back” yard. Both have grass. The front yard pretty much goes ignored all year. It has plenty of sun. The neighbors water their yards so prodigiously it’s rare I’ve got to set out the water sprinkler.
The back yard, on the other hand, has become a bit of a project. I’m into my 4th year of gardening. I’ve managed to build 3 raised beds and a mound of odd compost. I’ve laid sod TWICE in as many years now and have only had moderate success. I’m already planning year 3 of sod… sodding.
Looks great until it rains for 10 days straight.
I realized, quite suddenly, just a few hours ago; not only do I have a tendency to use too many commas in a run-on sentence, but I was looking forward to Spring. I planted my garden. I spent hours weeding my lawn and cleaning the mulch beds. Which all, by the way, led to the mound of compost. And now I can’t wait for it all to GROW.
I checked my calendar and apparently I’m due for a midlife crisis. Average life span of an American male and all I’m right at MID. As in halfway there. As many years ahead as behind. Sports cars, booze, and all that “stuff”.
I have apparently bypassed that and have gone straight to “old fogey”. I want to see pretty flowers in my beds. I want to see tomatoes, squash, cucumbers and onions blooming.
I’m going to grow hops this year.
I’m impatient to see a green lawn and leaves on the trees. I actually hate that the medians on the roads have better looking yards than mine. Every day I come home my crepe myrtal looks accusingly at me, “what have you done to me!!?”
If my deed restrictions allowed it, I’d have chickens. In a coop. I do like eggs.
It’s only March 2, and I want things to grow.
And then there’s SUMMER!
All winter my girls have been pretending its summer. They dress-up in the bathing suits and pretend to swim.
They had even, at one point, turned the entire living room into a swimming pool. I had to walk around it. NO RUNNING!
So there it is. While there are plenty of things I hate about summer (110º for ten days straight, electric bills, sweat, sun burns… I could go on) I love happy children and growing things.