Sweet Anticipation

My grandmother used to take folks visiting her little farm on a tour of her garden, pausing here and there to pull a weed or break off a spent flower or tie up an errant pea strand... satisfaction and fondness evident every time she stooped over another plant and said its name. And yes, a little exasperation in her voice at the sheer volume of work that surely waited for her while she was spending time with guests.

To my child's mind, Grandma's gardens knew no bounds. She had an apple orchard, a vineyard, cherry trees, and a large vegetable and flower garden. She had a small field in which she grew sweet corn. And she tried to teach us to dig potatoes, pit cherries, shell peas and string beans (that last skill seemingly useless now that they have bred the 'string' out of String Beans.) But, having grown up in the desert myself I didn't know how to appreciate gardens. Now, of course, I wish I'd been a more avid learner.

I'm getting it now though. I completely understand her enthusiasm. I head out to the yard as soon as I get home each day to see what 'friend' has made progress since we last visited. And it's particularly satisfying right now. The roses are starting to bloom, the peony buds are swelling and have ants (there is an old wives tale about ants being necessary for peony blooms, but it isn't true - they just are attracted to the bud's sweetness.) The pumpkins are up, the beans are tall enough that they are starting to reach for support, and there are two little tomatoes already formed on one of the tomato plants. The hydrangea has buds galore and the dahlias are already 6 inches high. Two dahlias from last year reappeared in the garden, along with the new peony that we planted several months ago but thought wasn't going to come up - and then when it first appeared I thought it was another dahlia.

Sweet anticipation. All this wonderment to come...