longing...

Oh how I have been torturing myself the last couple of days with books about gardening and spring. It all started when Jeremy innocently pulled a gardening book off the bookshelf and onto the floor for my longing heart to see. Before I knew what was happening, I was on my tablet reserving a book from the library titled "Gardening Wisdom". I then felt this nagging need to leaf through some March and April volumes of Martha Stuart Living I have stashed away. Bad idea. Now spring is on my mind, and it isn't going anywhere. My poor little heart can't take this! We haven't even had snow yet; how will I survive? In order to get through January I think I need to head to the nearest garden center, sniff that earthy smell and get it right out of my system. It's all I can do to stop myself from grabbing my copy of "Waldon: Life in the Woods" and running for the nearest mossy rock...

All I wan to do it work on our garden. Or, rather, work on our lack of garden. When we bought our house the state of the outside was pretty unsightly. We had every intention of gutting it all and restarting this summer, but all we could manage to do was dig up the flower bed along the front of the house and plant a few perennials. By the end of the summer the backyard was a jungle of thistles and weeds up to our shoulders. We swore that we would get a head start on landscaping this fall, but a crisis of the bathroom-pluming type occurred, and nothing ever happened outside. So here I am, knee deep in the dead of winter, fantasizing about plants and flowers and herbs and that amazing mud smell left after the snow melts. And about lavender. And my dream of having a little lavender farm. And there's not a darn thing I can do about it! 

in love with a big lavender bush...

Please, little heart, find some patience...