This week I am planting spring bulbs in my yard. We have lived in my husband’s family’s home for two years now and have been putting it off as my hubby threatens to dig a new foundation here and grade out a slope there. My father was house proud. He was an avid gardener with lovely blooming plantings from one corner of his small lot to the other. He indulged in perennials of all forms from trees to the sweetest early snowdrops. I share his affinity for nature and gardening. I am married to an earth mover. My husband loves trucks and large equipment. He drags whole trees from the woods with his giant tractor.
We have agreed to keep part of our large swath of Berkshire forest free from heavy tires. This is where my bulbs will be planted. Snowdrops – for my dad, lots of Daffodils to welcome the new life of Spring after our long Massachusetts winter, and checkerboard lilies because I just love them. It feels like home when there is a garden. This is my start, the vegetable garden fence will be installed this fall too so planting can begin in early spring. The thought of this brings calm and wholeness to mind.