Monday was also going to be the start of our long-awaited gardening season. But, per usual this spring, it rained. We were more disappointed than 1,000 wet marathoners.
But Tuesday broke warm and sunny. For the first time in five months, my nose was filled with freshly mown grass, tilled Earth and warm air. After a day’s delay, Mother Nature finally let us have a garden day.
My parents insist on garden days once a week. If they miss one, they'll fall behind, and their gardens will go all season being just a little behind.
This winter has been so raw that the ground itself is two weeks behind. The back of our shed where the gutters empty is the only place where the grass has grown green and thick. There are some sprouts in Foley's garden, but nothing has bloomed. If you are close to the ground, you can hear the roots singing if as they make their way to the sun.
During the cold winter months, we met Foley in our dreams and planned the upcoming garden season. Each winter she insists that we build a statue of her in her garden. By January she abandons her plans after promise that we'll build one the following year for sure.
Foley also acquiesced to moving the Gay family rose bush from her garden to the back one. Five years ago Papa's cousin gave him a shoot from what had been his grandfather’s rose bush at his family home. It is now four feet tall, but because it never gets sun, it doesn't bloom. Every year Foley says this season it will. Now that it's been moved to the sunny back garden hopefully she'll be right.
And if it does, she will demand a shoot be replanted back in her’s
When my parents start to work in the yard Pocket, and I are placed in our supervisory stroller. From there, using a series of barks, yips, squeals, and paw language we direct our parents what to do.
Of all the days we work in the yard opening garden day is my favorite. When the yard is raked, and the garden tilled all the scents trapped under the frost are released. It smells like the world has been reborn.
When the day's work was completed, and we were allowed to go on the grass the scents overwhelmed our little noses. It was like we could smell deep into the bowels of the Earth. Pocket likes to walk across the lawn taking in all the smells at once. I prefer to find one spot, bury my nose in the grass and take several deep breaths until I am nudged out of my stupor.
Now that opening day is behind us we begin our weekly garden time again. On Mondays, Pocket and I will be in our strollers, our parents in the gardens and yard and Foley will be fluttering around like a butterfly, and we will work together to make our little section of the earth more beautiful because if God gives you spring it is the least we can do.