I love my little raised garden beds.  Yesterday we added some white and yellow violas, more green onions, the row of lettuce you see waiting in the foreground.  The broccoli is making actual broccoli and two of the six potatoes have put out their first leaves.

The carrots haven’t shown up yet and I’m a little worried.  But then again, I can’t remember when we planted them, so they could very well just still be germinating and doing their thing, unseen.

Two itty bitty nasturtium plants have poked their first green leaves out.  (More hope for the carrots).

Currently I’m working on the patch right between the girls, under the lilac tree.  Weeding out the terrible runners from the invasive weed we call grass, debating over whether to buy dirt to help the heavy clay soil loosen its suckitivity (spell check says that’s not a word), making the first section of the brick mowing strip that will eventually curve the whole length of the wall.  Feeling a little rising panic that we aren’t going to get the flowers in on time and will miss out on a whole year’s worth of flowers and hummingbirds and butterflies.  (This is a familiar panic, I’m hoping this is the year to overcome.)

There is lavender waiting, and the first batch of strawberry seedlings to line the flower beds.  Also coming soon, creeping fig to cover the unsightly (but sturdy) block wall.  Block walls make for yucky photos.

The kids practically live out in the backyard.  They love to go round and round, talking through some imaginary scenario.  Some days they hike mountains as adventurous naturalists with backpacks, yesterday it was a parade that ended with a dance fest (50s and 60s rock and roll), ballet-style.

(Sidenote: Devo has a recording of someone else singing the Beatle’s Here Comes the Sun that gets a fair amount of play time.  Yesterday the Beatle’s original came on and Lia was miffed at all the changes these musical imposters had made.  Haha.)

Working in the garden is never a sure thing.  As with everything else when there’s a baby around, gardening is an exercise (sometimes strenuous) in detaching from accomplishment and results.  But at least we can retreat to the ‘wing wing’ (swing), and pass the time lazily in the sun.

Next up, gigantic tomato cages.


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