That was eight flower gardens ago.
I planted flower gardens when I was a foolish, young Type A lady without arthritis and back pain. Today, I look at my gardens and groan. The prospect of weeding and maintaining those plots makes me, I’ll admit it, grumpy.
Truth be told, I’m a grumpy, grateful gardener.
I’m grumpy because I hate weeding. I’m grateful cause God sends me flowers anyway. Nice work, God.
I’d like to say I plan all this gardening stuff and have a grand scheme to keep my flowers organized. Nope. Long ago I chucked seeds in one direction, not really knowing what would come up. I transplanted green things with no clue of the outcome.
God gave me flowers.
Now, in my later years (OK, old years), I don’t do much gardening because I’m grumpy.
God gardens. I just sit back and watch.
This year, raspberry bushes took over the barn garden. -I say: More power to them!
Some kind of blue flowers came from out of nowhere to rim my front porch. Nice color pop, God.
My lilies have morphed into monstrous clumps throughout the yard.
He has made everything beautiful in its time. – Ecclesiastes 3:11