In the past few weeks it's been frigid here, with arctic chills and frosty rooftops. I have learned that I am not cut out for Wisconsin and I've daydreamed about Palm Desert.
The children have been gluing, cutting, coloring and marking. They have been dancing in the kitchen and helping me make homemade pancakes, and they have been crazy and wild. We have all wanted to go outside. We have wanted the sunshine; the ability to ride bikes down the street without freezing our handle bars off.
Before the cold front, or perhaps DURING the cold front (in an act of thoughtless enthusiasm) I took a trip to the nursery and bought my son's weight in flowers (When I inherit the wind and a thousand million dollars, I will buy my weight in flowers). A new house means a new garden, and I'm not one to weed without a reward in sight.
Then, for a week, the flowers sat in their aqua blue six packs and I stayed warm and read my Western Gardening book by lamplight.
I read about Ivy.
I read about Wild Strawberry.
I started to fret. I started to hear the garden growing. You see, my garden is large and overgrown with those two plants, which some classify as Invasive Weeds (I classify them as My Undoing).
I tried once, to bundle my kids and throw them outside for some tromping and trailing in the backyard. I ripped the strawberry plants out at the breakneck speed of two feet per hour. After forty five minutes, a little boy was informing me that his hands were cold. He looked a little blue.
We went inside.
I looked out my window at the frost and the ivy and the strawberry, strawberry, strawberry, STRAWBERRY! and I cried inside.
So, I planned a last minute trip to the coast, to the sun and the sand.
I stood on the beach with a sweatshirt, a small boy, and a small blue stuffed bunny. We watched the waves. We watched the older brother run around and throw sand.
My family gathered sea shells and used them for shovels, and we threw muddy tennis balls out to sea for stranger's Golden Retrievers.
I came home, tired, full of sand and dirty laundry.
I found my patience at sea. I spent the Monday back mopping and cleaning, and I didn't fret about my yard. I threw myself into play dough and savored my children while my Iceland Poppies turned yellow in their plastic cages.
I knew someday, Some DAY, the weather would warm and I would be able to go outside.
Today. Was. That. Day.
I have cleared another two feet of strawberry (curse you strawberry!) I squished two baby snails, and I put those poor little poppies into the dirt.
The boys rode bikes and generously killed weeds for me. The weeds happened to be some adorable snapdragons that I had planted, but it's the thought that counts.
I'm back inside, and it might be cold tomorrow. It might be cold this week. I'm okay with that. Someday, it will be sunny again.
If the sun is eluding you and you can't find the light, do whatever you can to find it. Feed yourself sunshine, even if you have to borrow the rays from someone else. Then, wait in the dark, wait for the light. The light will come when you have done all you can do and given up, it will come when you wait.
p.s. when I find my camera I will show you pictures of my "secret garden" and we can take bets on how long it will take me to clear it out. The winner will get a prize. Unless, I forget about the prize, because I may not finish this project for 11 million years, and I'll probably forget by then.
