Yesterday afternoon I took advantage of the blue sky, warm temperature and slight breeze to garden. The last thing I want to do here is give anyone false ideas. Garden? I cannot garden. But I did take my hand spade and dig out what very much looked, to the non-gardener, like weeds. Then I realized that even a non-gardener would need some gloves, a taller spade and a cultivator. Off to Home Hardware I went.
Half an hour later I was back home with my new supplies. I slipped on my pink gloves, which to my delight came in size small. I stood in a rectangular patch of all sorts of things that are not terribly pretty. The space was at one point used for an above-ground swimming pool. Now it is what appears to me to be a bunch of weeds.
I've lived in places where there was plenty of space to garden, but that was when I was the between the ages of zero and twenty-something. That was when I had absolutely no interest in planting or weeding or raking or cultivating. The closest I came to gardening in my twenties was when I fled to northern Ontario to plant trees to make enough money to have fun.
Now I am thirty-something and am ready to do more than water my succulents. I've got the gloves. How hard can the rest be?
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