It’s that time of year here in the northwest when the flowers and trees are going crazy at a pace matched only by the allergy sufferer’s running eyes and noses. All the stores have their spring flowers out and the remaining hanging baskets from the Mother’s Day bonanza fill the shops. It is a torrent of color and wonderful smells. It pleases me. This time of year always fills me with hopefulness and that great possibility of the what if.
Yes, I love gardening.
Or, to be more honest, I love creating a garden.
Do you ever see a shoe lying by the side of the road and wonder about its story? I do. I wonder where the second shoe is, did this one get thrown out of a car window by a bored toddler? Was it set upon the roof of the car and forgotten as the driver sped off? Or is there a more sinister story behind this singular shoe lying in the gutter? My imagination likes to grab onto these lost and forgotten bits of someone’s life and ponder them. And today, I wonder if anyone seeing the lone glove in my front yard is wondering what is the story of that glove.