The nostril-scorching aroma immediately sent me back to the happiest seventeen springs of my life. Each of those springs was heralded by daffodils poking through leftover fall leaves and a trip to Lowe’s Home Improvement Center.
Today the sharp tang of pallets and pallets of bagged fertilizer activated synapses in my brain. That smell meant it was time for the annual state of the lawn survey. Back when I had a lawn, I'd use those walk-arounds to note patches that needed to be reseeded and areas where the wild onions flourished. That began my list of must-dos and for the garden.
So walking into Lowe’s today to buy squirrel repellent, was a let down.
I yearned for the gearing-up of another season’s beauty and fruitfulness, dirty knees and broken fingernails, digging and watching my arms firm up (as much as possible in a woman my age).
I yearned for the gearing-up of another season’s beauty and fruitfulness, dirty knees and broken fingernails, digging and watching my arms firm up (as much as possible in a woman my age).
With no yard to fertilize, no flower beds to rake out, no searching for the tips of iris or asparagus or the buds on the blueberries, spring feels flat.
I lament the absence of tree frogs singing near the pond the next field away. I’ve had to settle for a recorded version as my phone’s ring tone.
And the repellent hasn't discouraged the persistently curious rodent digging in my flower pots--my only sign of spring.
