The evening is breezy and mild. I’m sitting in my front yard in one of those vintage iron chairs as I type this. The birds are perched in the tree and on the high wires singing me a melody. The cows are grazing in the next pasture. The horses are munching alfalfa, and chickens are pecking in their pen. Occasionally the hawk soars overhead, keeping me on my toes. Dang that chicken hawk. The dogs lay at my feet. Occasionally they tussle. When Drew Miller’s adrenaline rises, I catch a hint of skunk smell waft my direction. I guess he did get sprayed after all. The sky is clouding up, teasing us with rain. Makes me feel like a teenage boy sitting next to a girl in a low-cut blouse. Life is good. The only thing missing is a creaky wooden screen door banging closed and a wide porch. Maybe even a glass of sweet tea.
I’ve taken to wearing an aunt Jemima scarf on my head out here. Or as the cool kids would say, a do-rag. The wind does blow and whips my hair about.
I sit here and contemplate my garden. Today I took full advantage of 2nd grade science curriculum and had my second graders help me start my indoor seeds. It might be considered child labor. I call it learning the life cycle and parts of plants. We planted tomatoes, peppers, green beans, okra, squash, and radishes. I don’t even like radishes that much, but they’re easy to grow. I got some seeds planted and children had a good time learning. Can’t beat it. I want my garden in my front yard. J-Dub says, “who puts a garden in the front yard?” I do, that’s who. I’m going to attempt a companion garden with vegetables and flowers. I’m going to walk up my path and pop a cherry tomato in my mouth as I pick a bouquet on the way to the front door. My no dig garden didn’t get finished. I started with such gusto, only to find the cardboard blown up against the fences in a couple of days. Oh the toil I wasted.
I long for care-free summer days, fresh garden veggies, and tan legs.
I glance up to see dust billowing on the road. The dogs’ ears perk up at the bellowing diesel of my husband’s truck. They run to the gate to meet him. Dogs are such great friends. Always glad to see you.
Nothing’s ready for supper. Do you think he’ll be mad?
First thing I notice when he steps out of his truck are his boots are red. Initially, I think he’s gotten new boots, but no. It’s his old boots, they are covered with red dirt from Oklahoma where he was working today.
I’ve got a hard-working husband, a little home, a lot of love, and wonderful people in my life.
And yet sometimes, I allow myself to cater to self-pity. What a shame I should ever feel mistreated.
Well, the sun has moved and I’m in the shade now. The breeze is cool and I must warm some leftovers for supper.
Until tomorrow, friends.
May God Bless you richly.