And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
Will care at last when it is done.
If mankind perished utterly;
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
Today I broke ground on our long-planned butterfly garden. The girls are out with their visiting grandparents. The spouse is off working. For about forty whole incredible minutes, it’s been just me, the dog, and the dirt.
“Set out wildflower seeds” has been on my phone’s memo app for about two weeks. Snow, sun, sun, snow (perfect) and then surprise! head lice, business emergency, blizzard, work, school break, work, kid with a cough (not so perfect). From deep in the Mommy-trenches, I kept missing the weather windows for my patient wildflowers.
Today I dutifully worked for several hours . . . post office . . . groceries . . . specialty lightbulbs . . . then ZOOM raced home from WalMart with one eye on the gathering clouds and a new hand-tiller jingling in the back of the car. I shoved my fresh pedicure into a pair of raggedy snowboots, whipped the wildflower seeds off their garage shelf, and frantically chawed up the island in the middle of our driveway with the store tags still flapping on the tiller.
Did it! Booyah! The seeds are all laid down, in the nick of time for a little snow that’s due tonight!
I am so pleased. And I wish I had better words, or more time, to describe the soft smell of fresh-turned dirt, mingled with the plopping all around of a sassy spitty snow, offset by distant thunder-rumbles in the background. Because those are some of the best smells and sounds in the world.
I’m an earth sign, truer than true. It’s been a long, dry, chilly season around here, but spring is on the way. Again, forever and always.
