Floral Fireworks

Nature's Color Bursts  

In honor of Independence Day and Canada Day, enjoy some floral fireworks from my gardens! These are the kind that won't spook your horses, dogs, or cats. No thunder jackets. No mosquitoes. No having to stay up waaaay past your bedtime.

 

 

I love gardening! Perennials, annuals, herbs, and vegetables - I love them all. I get that from my mom. My mother is a master gardener. Her green thumb is like no other. She just looks at a sickly plant and you can tell it's starting to feel better. She has that special touch you can't learn from a book or website or Facebook group. While I did not inherit that superpower, I did fall in love with being in the garden because of her. 

 

I remember weeding rows and rows of vegetables when I was little. She would pay me 10 cents per ice cream pailful of weeds. Only once did I layer the weeds light as air in my bucket to make it look full. When I presented it for payment, she gave me a dubious look and smashed them down to the half way mark. Lesson learned: No cheating.

I would sit in the grass-clipping-lined aisle with my little bucket and sing to myself while I picked weeds - from the root. Always go for a "good pull," that's the kind where you literally feel the hair-like roots giving way. Mom, in her sun hat, worked from the opposite end. We would meet somewhere sort of in the middle (Usually closer to my end. She was a way more efficient weeder.) and move on to the next long row. The sun bleached my hair white and browned my shoulders, but I didn't mind. When I tired of singing, the birds took over, and I dreamt up story after story. Something about the repetitive motion and satisfaction of looking back at the clean dirt lulled me into daydreams as it still does today. 

  

Though my daydreams have certainly changed, the weeds have not. They keep on coming, persistent little buggers. It makes me think of the weeds in my writing. I write a chapter, put a solid punctuation mark at the end, smile, and close my laptop, thinking, "Dang, that was good." Then I let it rest a day or so, read said chapter again, and oh my heavens to Betsy is it suddenly full of weeds. Wordy phrases, unnecessary descriptions, over-dramatic dialogue - it all needs a good editing pull. Then I read it over after I've filled my proverbial 10-cent bucket, and I get the same satisfying feeling as looking back on clean dirt in the garden. Heck, I've weeded this blog enough to go to Dairy Queen.

So everyone, happy Canada Day, happy 4th of July, happy gardening, and happy weeding!