I had high hopes for the weekend- farmers market, plant sale, block party- instead, I found myself holed up in our dark bedroom, fighting off a nasty virus. Cough, sore throat, chills, headache, aches and pains- you know, the works. It has been making its way around the family for a few weeks now, starting with my husband, who often gets run-down when he travels abroad. It briefly landed with the little one, and just when I started thinking I had escaped, I was hit hard.
I managed to pull myself out of bed for an hour on Sunday to run to the Southside Community Land Trust's annual plant sale, where I stocked up on herbs, which are the only things that seem to grow well in our shady backyard. SCLT is an amazing organization, and I always love visiting their City Farm- an incredibly productive farm (with chickens!) in the middle of Providence!
Yesterday, feeling a bit better, I planted my herb pots. I am going pretty light with the planting this year, because we have a bit of a 'garden pest' problem. That would be Vijay- who believes that my pots are there solely for his amusement! He loves nothing more than to use his digger and dump truck to transfer dirt from one pot to another.
He has already 'transplanted' my spring flowers, so I am not even going to bother replanting my pots for the summer. Nope- herbs only this year- in small pots, set up high, out of the reach of little hands.
Although I have admit, I don't really mind. I love seeing him dig in the dirt, and we wile away hours in the backyard, which is just how I dreamed it would be when we put in the deck and plantings. It is so green and lush back there, our own little oasis.
And it is amazing to watch the innate curiosity of children when it comes to the natural world. Vijay loves flowers, and he has learned to mimic me, leaning over to breath in their scent. When we are at the park, we often pick the clover and dandelions, making little bouquets. The only problem is he hasn't learned the difference between picking wild flowers and weeds, and picking my planted flowers. But it's hard to get upset when he eagerly brings me a little bouquet of flowers, picked from my pots. I just smile and thank him, and figure...the wonderful thing about gardens- there is always next year!