Abundant rain in winter following four years of drought resulted in a truly magical spring here in California. Seeds that waited dormant in the soil for years sprang to life, covering everything in purples, pinks and the bright orange of California poppies. In April and May my garden erupted with flowers. The effect was truly breathtaking:
The magic of life was so strong, that I didn’t have the heart to pull out plants that grew where I didn’t want them to grow. The path got covered, wildflowers grew into trees and smothered other plants, yet I simply let nature celebrate in all its glory.
For a few precious weeks I woke up to this beauty every morning. I drank my morning coffee looking out the window, taking a little pause before turning my attention to the rushed madness that marked the last few weeks of school. I watched bees of all kinds feasting drunkenly on all that bounty, hummingbirds drinking nectar, and squirrels eating most of the fruits off my trees (OK, I admit I didn’t like that part that much. I don’t mind sharing with wildlife, but why do they have to take only one bite and toss the rest???) .
Then summer came, and we spent the first couple of weeks indoors, cleaning up. By the time we were finally done and I was ready to enjoy my garden, things looked a bit different:
Hence began another week of intense work, this time in the garden. I did lots of pruning, pulling, weeding, cutting, digging, and yes--some planting. It got hot. My arms got covered in scratches. Burrs got stuck to my clothes. Dirt got under my fingernails. Can you tell I enjoyed every moment?
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