I have issues with bloggers who over-romaticize gardening. Gardening is work; it's dirty, buggy, grubby work. Sometimes it seems like everything I plant dies, and I am wasting hours of my time. It seldom actually saves me money, rarely produces in quantities large enough to be called bounty, and is utterly unforgiving of vacations.
But then, sometimes there are days like today, when I walk out the front door in the morning and pick fresh strawberries with my son before loading him into the car, stop to water my newly sprouted squash plants only to find new plants popping up all over the place, come home to pick fresh sugar snap peas while checking over mouth-wateringly gorgeous broccoli buds, and walk in the house carrying a fistful of fresh, fragrant cilantro, completely oblivious to the mud and sweat and mosquitoes trailing behind me. And I glance at my son gorging himself on still more fresh strawberries and think, "Hey, maybe those other bloggers have it right after all."
I just love spring.
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