The morning was rough. I had two appointments for two separate kids and I had convinced myself the first appointment started 30 minutes later than it actually did. We were lucky in that the orthodontist was able to still fit us in. Only 2-3 appointments left for this kid, and then the fun begins for kid #2.
The second appointment was a county over and involved a new doctor’s office we’d never been to before. We somehow arrived to that area earlier than anticipated and we were able to get breakfast at one of my favorite bagel spots. We fought traffic back to the cardiologist and the appointment was wildly uneventful. Which was GOOD.
I had half convinced myself that I earned a well deserved nap once we got home, but after setting a timer for nap time ended up somehow clearing the patio of broken pots, weeds and trash from last season’s fall prep. I rehung solar lanterns, discovered a petunia that had found the perfect conditions to come back to life, and nested my now empty pots and planters inside themselves ready for Spring planting.
A few of my larger heavier planters still had good dirt in them but also had a thick layer of little sprouts from a nearby tree. I hand tilled tops of them and removed the top third from the pots; dense earthy soil scented the patio and sparkled against my forearms.
I think about how I’m going to need a Benadryl after sweeping clouds of pollen off the space. I think about my grandfather working his own arms into the cold frame where we grew strawberries and how I’m planning on growing my own berries this year. I think about my Mammaw rinsing beans in a big pot from her recliner, snapping the ends and preparing them for canning or the night’s dinner. I wonder if I will also grow beans some day or if I’ll be a small scale patio gardener forever.
I am excited for the potential all this sweet dirt has to bring forth, for the life that awaits on the other side of Spring.
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