Appreciation

70 degrees out and barely breezy - perfect weather.

Along about this time of year my appreciation for those (not me) who enjoy working with plants (really, in the dirt?) is renewed.

We affectionately call this our "amphitheater" - it is on the outside of our stairwell to the basement. Most of the year it is lovely.  This time of year -  not so much.  It begins to nag at me every time I walk past the window:  clean me, clean me.

Viola growing through the crack in the rock.

I know it isn't much to look at right now (trust me - it was w-a-y worse before I hauled out 3 ginormous bags of winter debris).  Between the leaves from the beeches, maples and cottonwoods and the sweet woodruff  that has run amok, a 50 pound child could get lost in there and never found.  In a few weeks, though, the daffodils (the ones that I didn't step the life out of) will be blooming (yellow is my current favorite color), and it will be a veritable garden of delight.

It takes a bit of back-stressing work and there's where the appreciation for those gardeners comes in. I will never be a gardener.  Just the gardener's admirer.  The heaviest work, though, is now finished.  I've showered off all the creepy crawlies that might have clung to me, taken some ibuprofen for my back, and received a hug from The Husband.

He's promised me dinner out at a place of my choosing.  Wow - if I can get dinner out of it, perhaps I should work in the yard more often. (Then again, maybe not....)