planting

At 8 a.m. on Saturday mornings growing up--it seemed like every Saturday, but I'm sure it was just one a month--my dad would turn on Andrea Bocelli so loud that I'm confident Bocelli himself could hear himself singing.  That was the wake up call.  Two grumpy girls would meander down the stairs, following Bocelli's operatic sounds and the smell of bacon frying.  He fed us well, that I'll give him.  Then he would "torture" us by making us pull weeds.

When I was really young, yard work consisted of digging up worms while my parents did the real work.  But as I got older, the responsibilities became harder.  Pruning.  Weeding.  Raking.

Oh, how I hated yard work.

I couldn't help but smile this weekend as I planted my vegetable garden with such delight.  And, I've told a few friends over the last few weeks how much I like yard work and prefer it to housework, generally speaking.

If I know my Dad at all, he is delighted by it all...watching his daughter come into her own and finally--yes, finally--appreciate the magnificence of nature, of planting.  And, of watching what she plants bear fruit.

20 heads of lettuce, 6 tomatoes, 6 cucumbers, 3 zucchinis, 6 peas, 14 broccoli, 6 cauliflower, 2 chard, 6 kale, carrots, leeks, onions and radishes, oh my!