It’s that moment when I’m able to step outside without my winter coat. That moment when I look at the flower bed I’m about to tend. I’ll look at the dirt, rich with nutrients from things I missed during my autumn cleanup. I’ll look at the green sprouts of leaves and the minute buds on the hydrangeas my grandma ordered for me from QVC. I’ll smile when I recall that only a handful of weeks before, the hydrangea’s skeleton was in a vertical arm-wrestling match with seven inches of late-winter snow.
It’s that moment when I shudder as I use my gardening gloves to wipe the spiderwebs away from the yard-waste bin before I wheel it out to the middle of the yard. The blue container is chest-high and promises me a workout as well as a clean yard by inches. We got the little black wheelbarrow as a housewarming gift in 2011, and each year it helps me in the aspiration, never realized, to have one of those pristine yards I see in the movies. I fill that wheelbarrow over and over to dump into the yard-waste bin. Little by little, my yard will be tidy. But for only a moment.
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