As the calendar turns to May, my gardening urge gets restless and hungry. The irony is that by July Iâ€™ll be weary of lugging pail after pail of water to the container plants. Iâ€™ll feel guilty that Iâ€™m not doing a better job of harassing the weeds, and even more guilty that the green beans are starting to look like zucchinis because I havenâ€™t had time to pick them.
But for now, the dream overrides the reality. I start looking at garden centers with as much lust as I have for shoe stores. I grin when I see temporary, plastic covered, garden stores erupt like parking lot abscesses. I stack my dog-eared garden catalogs in neat piles and wait. And wait. Knowing the dirt will soon be under my fingernails? It is the best part of my day.
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