People are usually talking about speeding through small towns when they say it, but I think it goes for life as well. I’ve been working so much this last six weeks that I am continually surprised by the passage of time. What, it’s May? Wait, it’s almost Memorial Day? When did that happen?
When did the azaleas in our yard bloom in a riot of color and joy?
I came back from three days in DC and found . . .
. . . A SPROUT! Continue reading
Remember how, anticipating spring, we started building garden beds a month ago? And then winter came and brought construction to a snow-covered standstill?
Garden bed skeletons shivering in the snow.
We finally had enough spring-like weather to finish the garden beds! Continue reading
On Saturday it felt like spring and the camellias in our jungle were blooming.
And I was starting to feel pressure to get our garden up and running Continue reading
And I do mean that literally: our actual backyard, not Chapel Hill or North Carolina or North America or Planet Earth or any other metaphorical backyard.
January was a busy month–busy with work and traveling to DC for work, and also busy with combating a cold followed by a sinus infection followed by the desire to hibernate for the rest of the winter (not that it’s been anything really like “winter” here this year). So I haven’t had any time to travel.
But not all adventures start when you leave your own driveway. And our yard is an adventure in itself. It’s the kind of place a child, or an adult who remembers being a child, or a hound, can find nooks and crannies and leafy forts to hide in while getting lost in dreams . . . and quite possibly getting physically lost too.
Here’s a pretty view from our driveway on a sunny day: