My boyfriend wants to remind everybody that today is Earth Day, 2007.
I'm grateful that my corner of the world decided that on this particular Earth Day the weather would be gorgeous, providing zero excuses not to mow the lawn.
So I did.
But first I had to buy a new gas can because I couldn't find the old one
(until I got back and found it)
And bought new gas to put in the new gas can
(which I brought home and filled right up)
And said a prayer for the mower that hasn't run since November
And gave a great yank
(Just call me "muscles")
And off I went.
I have to admit it was a nice first-mow of the season, and I got a chance to visit all my outside friends as I mowed past. In the front yard were the tulips that SticksTuna had helped us plant several years back. I always think of Sticks every year when these come up and smile because it's such a beautiful part of our yard.
All the flower beds in the front yard are practically miracles. The front of the house used to be barricaded with overgrown evergreen hedges. And on either side was a mini forest of crowded evergreen trees that enveloped the entire house. BSTuna and TallGuyTuna came over with ingenious contraptions and voila! they were gone (To be truthful, it was much less voila! and much more hard, hard labor in the rain, but time softens those memories and allows for a bit of revisionist history). What remained was a much more open and inviting front yard and four new flower beds ready to be filled.
In the back yard, Fred and Ginger are going strong. Both are transplants from the Upper Peninsula, and were brought back from The Boy's Centennial Farm. It's a bit daunting knowing that plants entrusted to your garden were grown and tended by children, parents and grandparents before you, however, Fred and Ginger are thriving, which is a very polite way of saying they could thrive a little less and they'd still be WAY overgrown. But both of them amuse us greatly, and we've had plenty of offsprings to share with others.
There are some old favorites that seem to have disappeared. We miss the evening primrose show and lying on our stomachs at dusk watching the protective green leaves split apart one at a time. When they finally burst open -- as if it were time-lapsed photography sped up for our viewing pleasure -- you couldn't help but ooh and ahh over the entire thing. It was as if they were alive, and then you remember, oh yeah...they are.
As I mowed, I walked by all sorts of projects. Some are completed, some are in progress and others still live in the land of someday. There are a few cautionary tales too, such as: never plant chives directly into the ground unless you either want a chive farm or are planning to open a baked potato stand. Seriously -- these things are indestructible.
At this point in spring the tulips are pretty and the few daffodils that managed to survive the April frost are cheerful. The crocus are gone and the peonies have just started to peek through the ground. But what I like about our little bit of earth -- flowers, weeds and all -- is that it isn't just about the plants. It's that everywhere there are reminders of the people who gave their time and lent a hand to make this little corner a bit nicer. And where there are no plants yet, there are possibilities.
People and possibilities. A living legacy for today and hope for tomorrow.
Happy Earth Day.