Memorial weekend is usually a pressure-cooker of plans and we are on the go either hosting or being hosted. After all, it is for families the official first long weekend of summer. Not this year: this year we found ourselves with absolutely nothing scheduled. Really: a weekend free to do anything at all??
The weather was sunny and perfect and with it so many options, and it seemed like it might be a non-productive type of weekend full of almosts. We almost drove to Yosemite because when was the last time we were there, I mean really. We almost went to the jazz festival which runs at various venues all over town but we like Old Town for its quaint buggy rides and wooden plank sidewalks and you can play dodge-the-metermaid. We almost went visiting and almost played Tripoley and almost went to the coast.
But in the end we did yard work. Trust me, it's no punishment. We aren't dragging down trees or chopping down five foot weeds. This is the good kind of yardwork which involves gardening.
Gardening is a balm for the soul. We over-indulged ourselves by shopping for plants, buying soil and organic lighting and a new flag for the pole. We hummed the day away mowing and chopping and trimming and prettying things up with bursting blooms.
I celebrated a ruined maincure by digging deep in the soil because I want to feel the dirt under my nails and breathe in that peaty smell. We uplit the tree and house numbers and flowered up the wishing well before uplighting the flag. A car drove by as the flag raised up the flag pole and they honked and waved. Gotta love it.
As Sunday evening fell, we got to sit back with a soda and rock in our chairs and wait for the lights to shine on everything pretty and fresh and watch the little purple cuckoo bird ornament rock in the breeze. We chatted up neighbors and looked forward to a whole extra day of gardening today. Three day weekends are the best.
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