Something major is happening in my back yard and I’m excited. The last big thing to happen back there was the six bags of last year’s leaves and dead grass. There really wasn’t that much volume of loose plant parts, but Sherman left enough poop back there this winter to virtually cement most of the leaves and grass together: it was like the world’s most disgusting paper mache project. Nothing a bit of determination and a rake couldn’t tackle, really. As sad as the brown, crisp blades of grass are (because beige is most depressing colour) there is a glimmer of hope.
Check this out:
My lilac tree has its spring garb waiting in the wardrobe. In a matter of days, teensy green leaves are going to bust out and turn my dreary yard into a bustle of life and renewal. I cannot wait. I’m grateful this past winter has been so mild, but I need colour, people. I cannot handle any more taupe, beige, buff, brown, or any version of grey.
Spring brings all kinds of good things, like walking the dog in a t-shirt and leaving the bedroom window open just a little all night. The shrub outside my back door is winning the green race right now, and very nearly makes me giddy. As an added joy, I could hear birds singing outside well past nine tonight. They are well aware what season it almost is.
Except for the zillion pine cones I need to rake up in the front yard (go, conifer allergy!) I think this little house is ready for spring. All my t-shirts are washed, and I even had all the upstairs windows open on Sunday to practice up for the big arrival of my second favourite season.
The other extra-super bonus of spring? There are eight weeks of school left until summer!
My teacher friends are fist-pumping right now. I know they are.
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