ramblings from an arkansas farm girl
Happy Easter, Sunday Letter readers!
Easter really sneaked up on me this year. I don’t know if I’ve not been paying attention to the calendar or what, but the truth is this too-big-for-its-britches year needs to slow itself down. I’m not kidding. I can barely keep my head above water.
Today is also my sister’s birthday. Yay for sisters and yay for birthdays! Some people don’t recognize how special both are.
Dear Sunday Letter readers,
This is the time of year I fall behind in my writing and reading because I spend the bulk of my waking hours working in the garden. Nurseries lure me in with fuchsia blooms and bright green foliage. Warm weather entices me, tries to make me believe things that aren’t true.
I know better.
I’ve held off on planting seeds and buying most flowers because a late cold snap always arrives just when our corner of the world is stretching awake. There are plenty of other things that keep me busy. I’ve been dividing lilies and coneflowers, and moving them to other places. I’ve been weeding and weeding and weeding. Removing deadwood from trees and shaping up ornamentals is fun for me. And John has built a trellis, laid gravel—well, he does the heaviest lifting.
Next Tuesday, our forecasted low is a rude 27.
The good news: by the mere passing of days, we are nearing the tail-end of cold weather until fall. For real.
Dear Sunday Letter friends,
Every spring day brings a bit more magic. In our neighborhood, those who came decades before us had the foresight to plant redbuds and dogwoods in parkways beside the street. Now, anyone who happens by is surely blown away by the blooms. I certainly am. Even though I see them every day, every day they are new to me.
That’s what we gardeners try to do—leave the world better than we found it. Gardener or not, that should be everyone’s goal.
This picture of our street doesn’t do justice to the reality.
