Simple pleasures from the garden

It's fun now to begin thinking ahead to some of the littlest pleasures the garden will bring; the hard part is finding the patience to wait. I'm not the most patient of people; I sigh and wiggle and roll my eyes through the wait in the grocery store line, lay on the horn too often when the person ahead of me at a red light daydreams past the green and generally expect instant results once I've put my mind to something.

A garden requires a lot of patience; there's soil to be tended and seeds to be coddled and months in between the intention and the reward. Winter and its end, I guess, is a time to respect the process.

At any rate, I thought today about some of the things I look forward to in the coming months. I was sitting outside the office around 11 this morning, in a spot sheltered from the wind and the weak sun was shining on my face and with my eyes closed, I could imagine it June, almost. Imagination or memory, I'm not sure which, brought me this:

~the flash of a hummingbird investigating the blooms of red salvia

~the taste of a sun-warmed tomato or a perfectly ripe strawberry

~the decision to give up on the pretty fingernails (or the ridiculous gloves) and dig recklessly in the dirt with bare hands

~the feel of walking barefoot through wet grass

~the calls of osprey overhead as they commute from the river to their cell tower nest by the train station

~the delight in burying my nose in the lavender patch heedless of the bees

~the tickles from a ladybug on my arm

~the hot shower that soothes tired muscles after a day spent digging and transplanting

~the surprise on a friend's face at the tiniest of vases filled with lily-of-the-valley or an enormous bouquet of peonies and catmint from my garden

Simple pleasures... simple things to look forward to.