Every year at this time I come down with a bad case of the gardening bug. It slowly builds up inside me, an ocassional thought here and there . . . turns into an all consuming desire to dig my hands into a bag of potting soil.
No Tools . . . No Gloves
I can't deny myself the pure bliss of gritt under my nails and dirt stained hands.
I know - - I'm weird.
Kids think I'm crazy - - but I'm cool with that!
Happily I fill tiny planters and creamers with wheatgrass seeds. Larger containers are filled with spring blooming bulbs.
Before I know it the pretty display in my kitchen window is replaced with field of plastic wrapped containers.
To most it's not a very pretty sight, but to me . . .
It's anticipated beauty and I love it.
Hope you have a great day,