Yesterday was a such perfect day because we spent it working in the yard, and there’s nothing much better than a breezy, sunny, pre-spring day digging in the dirt. (After having been under the weather for several days, I was extra grateful to feel energetic.) John raked and bagged while I cleaned out the front beds. We have so many trees all around which means lots of sticks, especially since the Northwest Arkansas wind of late seems to blow West Texas strong.
When my sister and I were kids, our job was mowing the yard each Saturday, an all afternoon affair which began with picking up sticks, then mowing circles around the trees with the push mower (a job no one liked), and then finally cutting the grass with the riding John Deere (of course) mower.
I always felt a little sad mowing over the flowers in our yard. Flowers in the form of dandelion and henbit. But picking up sticks was the worst part, next to mowing the ditch (which Momma did) because once at the top, the slope felt as steep as the banks of Little River. Plus, the ditch ran way too close to the highway to be considered safe.
Yesterday while cleaning beds and preparing for spring, I thought of those sticks and our ditch and all those hot summer days spent mowing, and how those days were pretty perfect, too. Those picking up stick days.
Who could gather the largest pile?
Maybe we could make a raft like Huck Finn and float down the Mighty Mississippi to Goldsmith’s?
Better not try that. Not if mowing the ditch feels dangerous.
Yesterday while cleaning beds and preparing for spring, I weeded dandelion and henbit away from coneflowers beginning to emerge and wondered what new flowers I might add this year. What a joyful thing, working in the soil, in this small yard we call our own, which others have claimed before us and others will tend when we are gone.
Happy Sunday everyone!
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Waiting’ For the Light to Shine, Big River