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When your husband arrives home from town, comes in the door and says to follow him, he has something to show you, you do, all the while chattering about that big thing you’ve been working on all day, the details, this, that, and the other, on and on you’re going, out the door and across the patio, chattering away, when you look up and stop mid sentence. There, in the back of his truck that’s backed up to the lawn are ten oak half barrels.
Happy Mother’s Day, he says, I wanted you to have a garden this year.
And you’re laughing and crying and saying TEN?!
Ten.
So, I’ve been collecting images, looking at our outdoor space, measuring, wondering, scheming, planning. I’m thinking something along these lines:
A garden, after all.
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