Do you ever have moments where something is so exciting that all those cheesy phrases about the bliss of being love suddenly make sense? I know, many of us experienced those moments when we first started dating someone, or for the first day, week, month, or year of your marriage (everyone's bliss dissipates eventually, or maybe it was popped). But have you had such moments since then? I am having one today. I feel like I could fly on wings, like I have a splendid secret in my pocket, like my heart could sing (I know, enough already). And guess why? This old, fat man in a white t-shirt with suspenders and a Santa Claus beard came to my house today. He has a lot of hip pain and was excited because today social security checks get deposited. He trusts people and let me pay with a check. I paid $25. And it was so worth it. I now have a 4 ft x 21ft space, freshly rototilled and just waiting to grow things. It is so beauitful. Can you hear my song of rejoicing? It sounds better than my real voice. I feel like tomorrow is Christmas and I can't believe I won't have time to open my presents (seed packets) until after lunch. And I suspect it would have taken me more than four hours to dig such a space, probably more because I never have four hours without interuption to do anything.
I wonder why gardening excites me so much. Can it be passed on from one generation to another? Can farming run in our genes? If my diabetes didn't prevent me from drinking champagne, I would lift my glass, and say, " Here's to this year's gardening season. May the praire dogs of Montana not be replaced by the rabbits and squirrels of Michigan." Thanks God for the joy of watching things grow (and then picking them!).
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