My body aches this evening, but it’s one of those good aches, the kind that means I’ve been using my body for something other than a place to hold up my clothes.
It was so gorgeous today — nearly 70, clear skies. This is MARCH?! I made some inroads on the yard work. Last time we had a nice day, I tackled the backyard — raking the leaves I missed last fall, picking up fallen branches. I’ve got it looking pretty spiffy. Today was the side yard’s turn. (We have almost an acre of land, so it takes awhile to get the job done sometimes.) Now the piles await the wheelbarrow and a stack of wood is moved. We’re contemplating tearing down the awful old wire fence (and rotting posts) and replacing it with something halfway decent. And…
Well, you know the routine. The work is never done. There’s always more to do. And that’s okay with me. At least I’m here to do it, and grateful that I can, that my body is still willing to carry me forward, to reach and grasp and bend. And ache afterward with a bone-deep satisfaction.
And before I came in for the evening, I look a stroll around the yard. It’s something I do frequently at this time of year, keeping tabs on the flower beds and what’s coming up. No sign of the asparagus or clematis yet, but the crocus is in bloom. Hyacinths are sticking up their heads (plus I have 3 gorgeous ones already blooming courtesy of my friend Sue Heg). Peonies are poking their little red noses into the air and my day lilies are up several inches. Iris are showing the first touch of green leaves and the lilac has budded. Daffodils are up with fat heads waiting to burst open and the forsythia promises to be amazing.
Such bounty. It’s hard to believe that a few short weeks ago we were under a foot of snow. Amazing to contemplate that all that bounty was waiting there, hidden beneath the cold ground until the right moment.