February in Chicago. Two months of no gardening, and I’m
leanin’ back (…aaah…) into a huge cushion of gratefulness that I live somewhere
whose weather gives me this break from gardening. I cherish knowing my break
will last another month. Gardening articles in Sunday papers hold no interest
for me now. I don’t care that there’s a hot new-for-2017 adenophora with fairy-bell
blooms and upright stems right now. I’m resting. Robert and I have tried to
discuss springtime ideas like moving the rose bushes, transplanting black-eyed
susans, getting a new clematis, but these plans go nowhere. We’re not in
gardening mode yet. I have tucked away a mental note to look for hardy hibiscus,
but if this note gets lost, oh well. Saturday we stopped in a local gardening
center only because Robert thought he might find pots for his indoor jades. So
imagine my surprise when a full-blown vision for a new flower garden appeared in
my brain as I stood in front of the seed packet display. I’m still resting, and
I’m not so antsy to dig in the dirt that I’ll unseat myself early from my comfy
garden-break cushion, BUT I will admit to a little hollyhock and larkspur excitement.
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