Saturday, March 13, 2010
H is for Hydrangea
I'm thinking tonight of what daylight will bring: the smell of cold mud and new moss, the taste of early morning tea and wheat toast with raspberry jam, and the feel of a pair of work gloves on hands that after a long winter have become too used to indoor pursuits. There are gardens to clear at my mother's house, a fence to mend, and, yes, old hydrangeas to cut back. Life itself right now is all about mending damage and pruning and preparing for a tomorrow that brings with it some things as expected and familiar as snowdrops and daffodils, but also, of course, surprises--some as welcome as a new plant volunteering itself in the garden, others as unwanted as a fence blowing down in a storm or a tree falling on the chicken coop (notice how much I want chickens; they peck their way into nearly every conversation and thought!). I've got a good pair of pruning shears, a box full of tools, and my back is nearly mended from the tumble I took last fall. I can pull on my wellies and tackle anything. I'm ready.