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.
Yay!
Was really pleased to read this entry. So glad it’s all working out!
And “Next year, I will plant extra, just for her” made me especially smile.
We strive, and press, and then the locked door yields.
We stumble through the portal, unopposed.
And stand, and breathe, in open sunlit fields,
of grass, and heather, hyacinth and rose.
Sean, that’s lovely. Is it yours?
It is.
Very nice. 🙂