When we bought our house 2 years ago, July, there were lilies of the valley crowding themselves out under the American Beauty rosebush, a couple of peonies that were NOT thriving in any way and tiger lilies near the bushes at corner by the bus stop.
The rest of the yard was a blank slate. I think I did a little bit the first year, more the next year (including a raingarden built by my hubby and then 3 year old) and this year I am watching the blooms.
I don’t know what most of them are, and I don’t really care to play the identification game. Not a good use of my time. I’m watching the sedum that Tori put in last year. I’m ready to slather the soaked flax seeds for late summer blooms. I’m watching what I think are bachelor buttons getting close to blooms. The rain garden has two or three blooming flowers. And there is this little hosta like thing near the house.
I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to watch the green and the color come through. It gives me hope. Each year these fragile little plants are trampled by snow and salt and dirt and big ugly winter boots and they still survive. Every year the sun seduces them to come back to the land of the living. No matter how trampled they were. No matter how scared and dark it might have seemed during the long cold winter, they saw the sun, and brought the energy of life up through the ground again.
My little guys started Lyme Specific transfer factor on Monday at $500 for three months, and the little guy sounds like he has a cross between swine flu and T. B. My leg and hip hurt so much, I’m wondering if I will wake up unable to walk. My sister implied that I am a lazy freeloader and cut me to the center of my core. And yet, the sun still shines. The choice I am making is to keep facing the sun and just see what grows.