Where Have All The Flowers Gone?

I hope Robin and I aren't singing this old ballad in a few weeks after our recent attempt at gardening. I came home from work to find many bags of top soil and two large flats of flowers. While Robin cleaned the pool I emptied bags of soil into the flower planter, then asked him why I was doing the hard part. Those bags are heavy!

Once the soil was even and smooth, we arranged the flowers and checked the spacing before pushing them gently in the damp earth. Now, we're hoping our thumbs are greener than we think they are. Neither one of us is given to gardening.

I wish gardening was my cup of tea. I love lush lawns and colorful blooms, but I want to admire them after someone else has tended to them. I equate gardening to camping. Why leave the comfort of my home to go outside and rough it? It's never made sense to me. I have a comfortable mattress, indoor plumbing, and central air and heat. To give all that up to sleep in a tent, on hard ground, would be torture. The lack of a bathroom is even more unthinkable.

So it shouldn't come as any surprise that I don't relish getting my hands in dirt, wiping perspiration, and feeling the aches and pains in my back as I empty another bag of top soil. I actually had dirt under my fingernails. Robin commented that he'd never before seen my hands covered in dirt. I assured him he probably hadn't.

I must admit, however, that once the chore was completed, I showered and cooked dinner, then looked outside and felt proud of our simple gardening. I just might tackle the planter around the mailbox next. But Robin will be lifting the bags.