And I just got home. When I left, my yard was a barren, brown mass of ugliness and when I returned, it was ALIVE! Yellow bushes and flowers were exploding all over the landscape, tender shoots and stems had burst forth from the soil and were eagerly reaching for the sky, and a sea of emerald green grass had replaced that sad, sorry lawn.
Maybe I should go away more often. I mean, the transformation was so incredible that I called my husband (who had held down the fort while I hit the beach) from the car and told him I had just pulled up at the cutest place and I wished he could see all the pretty flowers and shrubs and wonderful things I was seeing...and then I said, "By the way, I'm home!"
"Finally!", came the reply. I took it as a complement, although it's quite possible that the relief in his voice had more to do with not having to babysit my chickens anymore than it did with him being glad to see me.
But I still love him...and I love my home. Although a week in South Florida at the end of winter never hurt anybody, if you catch my drift. And no, I wasn't catching waves the whole time either. I was helping my sister move. But in between loading and unloading the moving truck I managed to squeeze in a visit or two to a beach or two, a leisurely pass through the downtown Naples shopping district, and of course, a sunny stroll through the Marco Island Farmer's Market where I scored a ripe juicy pineapple, three blood oranges, two bear lemons, a turmeric root, a purple sweet potato, a basket of fresh picked strawberries, and a super sweet red onion....and some saw palmetto honey. And the most amazingly beautiful french melon that was so sweet they called it a "honeymoon".
It lived up to its name...and I saved the seeds from that one. Ha!
So now that I'm finally home and spring is finally here, it's time to get outside and get inside the garden. But before I head on out there, here's a few photos from my road trip...
By the way, I got a new sunhat after the dog chewed up my other one. And a new set of sunglasses after I sat on the old ones.
I'm not sure why I felt compelled to share that.
We're easily entertained.
Twenty hours of driving makes you do strange things. I thought it was nice of Will to share his snacks, and he thought we'd never get home.
He said that more than once.
He's nine. Time passes slowly when you're that age.
I never realized how much I miss saying "Fill her up!" and "Could you get those bugs off the windshield, please?". But alas, that only exists back in the good old days...
And the story of this place and this alley is so legendary (as are the many stars I've run into on these very steps) that it merits its own post, so you'll just have to tune back in later. In the mean time, you can tune your radio to WSM 650AM every Saturday night to catch the Grand Ole Opry show, live from Nashville...after ninety years, it's still going strong.
For some reason, driving through rush hour traffic in downtown Atlanta causes my head to throb. Apparently the speed limit signs were only a suggestion, and with five lanes of traffic going ninety (!) miles an hour and coming at me from every direction, I found myself suggesting that I might be crazy for getting smack dab in the middle of all that chaos.
We don't even have a stoplight in my little town. I'm not used to big city driving. And you're not going to believe this, but I have five new gray hairs now.
I'm flying to Florida next time.
But that will be a long time coming, because when this is what I have at home, I just hate to keep running off...