Springtime Flowers

Looking at my back patio was dismal. Last year’s plants had faded into wisps of yellowed memories. It was a site that caused my palms to itch, longing for my gardening gloves.

So, off I went to the local nursery. Now, I know some people are addicted to different things – I have to be very careful when I decide to go to this place. I always have a dollar amount in mind, because if I’m not careful, the next stop is a Rehab Center in a group called “Gardener’s Anonymous”. Yep, it’s that bad. 🙂

Today, I was moderate. I only slightly exceeded my budget – but it was because I had broken my favorite pot, and I spotted an identical one. What’s a girl to do?

As I rummaged in the dirt, prepping the pots for their new guests, I felt the tension of the past week slip away. Grimy, sweaty and humming, the old was tidied up, and the new was lovingly planted. I always feel a kinship with my plants. They bring such joy with their cheerful colors and blossoms.

Quite simply, my garden is part of my sanctuary. It’s a place of beauty and of refuge. It’s like the plants and flowers – like my Irish heritage – are part of my soul.

Maybe that’s why my name is Rose?