I don’t know where my mind was last fall, but it wasn’t on planning ahead for pops of color, courtesy of pansies, around the house.
No, instead, the little bit of color that we have in the planting beds is from a few bedraggled, unenthusiastic, ancient daffodils who look like they’re huddled together outside taking a smoke.
If they could speak, they’d be talking in an old guy NJ accent, asking each other for a light. “Hey, Murray! You got a lighter over dere? Whatcha say you lets me use it. Tanks, buddy.”
I feel that I’m working with the landscape crew in spirit.
The crew started our spring cleanup yesterday, but it takes them a day or two to complete our property. When we used to do the clean up ourselves it took us at least 4 weekend days, working together for 8 hours each day, to get this yard looking snazzy.
Too much for us.
So today while the crew is making things tidy outside, I’m inside perusing garden websites and gardening catalogues. It’s amazing how many plants and garden doodads we need when I apply myself to the task of helping the landscape crew in this way.
And that, kids, is what’s going on around here. I’m waiting for the big reveal after the landscape crew finishes, feeling that this expensive indulgence is worth the price. And I’m grooving on the idea that when you get down to it, middle age has its perks.