Spring has sprung. I noticed it for the first time a couple days ago as I roamed my property without a jacket, saw weeds taunting me, and smiled at the growth on my rose bushes.
I’m always grateful in the fall when the last mow is mowed, the patio furniture is stored, and the hoses are folded away. By then, I’ve had enough of yard work. But I’m equally grateful the following spring when the tulips sprout, the lilacs bud, and the rose cone protectors disappear. It’s the beginning of a new season.
This year, I hope to keep up on the weeds personally, while others mow my lawn and cut my shrubs and fertilize all green things. I actually like weeding; it seems to satisfy the compulsive personality in me. By which I mean, it makes me feel good that I’m ridding my land of unsavory plants, keeping the flower beds neat and clean, challenging nature to stop sending weeds my way.
I look forward to the emergence of my tulips, day lilies, lilacs, and hydrangeas — in that order. They make me feel that the effort on their behalf is worth it throughout the summer season. I also look forward to my geraniums, petunias, peonies, astilbes, and sedum; because without them the season would not be complete.
Then, in late October, I will look forward equally as much to shutting down the yard and lawn . . . only to wait until the following spring for the feeling of sprung once more.
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