Back in the yard, the rewards continued. I took the time to peel down to a tank top and shorts to water my rose bushes that until a few days ago were so thirsty they practically grabbed at my ankles as I walked past. I’ve been apologizing for the neglect big-time, pruning them, spraying them, paying the attention that should have been paid more than a month ago, working on coaxing and pleading and forcing one more round of blooms from them before the first frost shuts them down.
The roses soaked and encouraged, I brought the hose around the side of the house to water the rest of the garden, smelling the scents of lavender and feverfew crushed underfoot. The mums are back with a vengeance, especially the delicate “florist mums” that by all rights should have died off last winter. At three feet tall, these plants are the essence of foolhardy spit-in-your-eye resilience. And I smile, too, thinking of how my boyfriend brought them out to me in the middle of winter the year before, a small splash of color in a small plastic pot just to brighten for a little while a bitterly cold and snowy Midwestern night.
The eleven year old chocolate lab is moving a bit more slowly today, forgoing following me around the yard with a tennis ball in favor of laying down in the shade. His days are numbered too, though some good painkillers tonight may perk him back up for a while. But he’s been a very good dog for a very long time, and he’s pretty happy to have me back around the house again too.
As Scarlett O’Hara said at the end of “Gone with the Wind,” tomorrow is another day. Who the heck ever knows what the next day will bring? Good surprises, bad surprises, they’ll find us no matter what we do.
But for the moment, at just this moment, with the smell of lavender lingering and a sunny afternoon and a cup of tea waiting at my kitchen table…I can say right now that I’m a very happy camper.
