Sunday, May 20, 2012

Little Rows of Happy

When I garden in bare feet, a bikini top and a pair of shorts, I know I'm becoming my mother. The sun was perfect today.

Putting in my summer vegetable garden makes me feel like not a moment has passed since every other summer, though. Like I'm 33 and 7 at the same time, and the garden is what brings it together. Somehow, when I loosen a root ball and dig my hands into the warm soil, it feels like it's summer now and it has always been. Because cucumber vines smell the same. Snails always cling to the side of plastic pots with the same veracity. Tomatoes always need to be planted deep. The tomato cages always have the same resistance as I push them down into the earth. Water always makes the same hiss as the sprinklers kick on.

It smells like steer manure, but it's predictably good for the soul. And really, spreading the manure into those orderly, raised rows makes me feel a little bit like my grandpa. Gardening connects me to something ordinary. Familial.

I can't believe it has been over a month since I bought all of this stuff--it was high time it went into the ground. The weather has been good, though, and I haven't lost anything yet. Thank God for sprinkler timers. I feel like I can sleep better at night, now, because my little vegetable babies are tucked into their beds.


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