A gardening we will go

And weren't we quite the gaggle of green thumbs last weekend!

          There's just something about that first Saturday in April that seems to bring out the amateur gardeners in full force, and our family was no exception. The kids were pumped up about picking out their own plants at the nursery, and Tim and I were full of plans for our babies (the vegetable garden in the back and the flower garden in the front, respectively). 

It thrills me to death that my children get into this, that far from us foisting our enthusiasm upon them, they're taking pride in their own plot of dirt -- even if it means that Caroline digs a hole, dumps in an entire packet of seeds, and considers the deed done. And I can't help wondering if my feeling mirrors that of my Lord, as He watches us to take joy in uprooting the the unwelcome weeds that threaten to choke what we've sown, in planting and tending the things we want to see grow, and in surv

eying (and sometimes eating) the satisfying fruits of our labor. 

Tomatoes, peppers, corn, watermelons, butterfly bushes and roses are in the works. The children worked diligently until degenerating into a mud frenzy, at which point I felt it was time to leave the house and deliver dinner to a friend with a new baby. If some children track mud in the house and their mother is not there to see it, or clean it up, did it ever really happen?

Don't you think my husband looks H-O-T wielding a wheelbarrow full of freshly unearthed compost? I think so too. 

On a totally unrelated note, I am hoping he will buy me this gorgeous rosebush, called a "Julia Child" rose, sighted at the Hancock Nursery. Maybe for Mother's Day, or my birthday, or just for being a completely awesome wife and no other reason, especially not any perceived similarity to Julia herself. Heh.