My husband loves May mornings in the southern West Virginia hills. Many of them are shrouded in fog and most are cloaked with dew. The birdsong is lovely, especially when the robins and bluebirds and doves first start tweeting.
I've grown to love May mornings, as well. Actually, I love all mornings. I've always been a lark. Even as a teen I rarely slept 'til noon and about the only time you'll find me in bed past 6 a.m. is when I'm sick.
This May morning will – WILL – find me in the garden, as soon as it warms up just an eentsy bit more. I hope to get everything weeded and planted today, and it will take most of the day to do it. I'm promising myself I will take some breaks and then get right back to it. My personality is the kind that likes to go from A to Z without stopping in between, but as I get older I find it's just not possible to go from A to Z without some kind of mental meltdown or physical injury.
And lest you think working in the garden will be drudgery … it's not at all. I'm so surprised to find, at my age, that digging and tilling and planting (and reaping!) are fun for me. I moved here, to a home with plenty of tillable land, in 1997, but only began gardening three years ago. Or was it four? The older I get, the more the years run together.
Speaking of years passing quickly … our triplet grandsons are four years old today. I looked at their three-year-old picture today and am amazed at the difference between three and four. Three = toddler. Four = BOYS! I hope they have lots of fun at their party and if anyone deserves a happy mother's day, it's their sweet mom, who's had her hands more than full since they were born.
Wishing you all well today, and I hope you get a peek at some sky-blue pink clouds and skies soon.