Now, my yard is full of flowers, mostly planted by me, and Liz was just telling me that one day she saw a woman walking by with her dog and a huge bunch of hyacinths and tulips that she was picking from my yard. And I know I should be indignant, and it's true, I would be sad if people picked all the flowers, but the truth is, I feel a certain kinship with that woman, who loved the flowers enough to dare picking them. Next year, I will plant extra, just for her. This weekend, I'm going to plant some seeds, and then mow the back yard and rake it clean -- we've picked up all the doggy business from the winter, and as soon as Ron and Liz's fence goes in (within a few weeks, according to the schedule), the kids will be merrily running around back there.
It's always a strange feeling, when a dream comes true. It's happened a few times to me now, with books, children, true love; I don't think I'll ever get used to it. It doesn't feel quite real.