February 15, 2016
In February, seed catalogues arrive with their promise of spring. I have always enjoyed browsing, circling favorites, setting a budget, and placing my order. Pleasant anticipation and daydreams accompany my wait until the day the seeds and young plants arrive.
This year, however, I see no reason to open the glossy pages, no call for expending hope. I’ve little soil left after all the flooding at our home. My yard is largely a bog now, the result of the watery incursion. Although it would delight Shrek, I am not an ogre (despite my children’s assertions to the contrary) and find no pleasure in squelching soil or drowned and decayed plants.
The answer may be to change direction, adjust perspective. Maybe I should embrace the changes and dig a streambed and a pond. In rerouting the pooling and surging water diverted from our house, I could…
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