Something struck me driving to work this morning. I am obsessed with my flowers, yard and just digging in the dirt. Anything associated with my gardening has become what makes me feel wonderfully happy. Even the rocks; I moved three buckets full of rocks before I started getting ready for work this morning. We have all kinds of rocks that have been brought in at different times in landscape. Since last fall I have been separating these rocks by shape and size to different flower and vegetable beds in the back yard. There is pepper plants one plant in each round bed. Then there are cucumber plants along the same stretch of brick wall. Along the wall I have gotten out all the big dark colored rocks leaving only the pebbles. Around all of the plants I have gathered the round white rocks building circular trim around the plants. This being said, I am a garden nut, I realized that more as I write this.
It is so bad that yesterday I went by and had my finger nails painted. I dug and pulled every piece of grass from the vegetable garden and the flowers. I was wearing gloves, thinking I would not hurt the new polish. I was wrong; this morning there is hardly any of the polish left on my nails not to mention the dirt that I cannot get out from under my nails. I guess being a girly-girl is not what I am meant to be. I had rather dig in the dirt than worry about that lady like junk. Those people who painted my nails must wonder what in this world?I hope that what I have done is not the yard art we decided to call this. I have no gnomes or wind chimes. There are bird feeders, an iron fish, and the pine cones. The iron fish hangs above the fish pond. There are only two humming bird feeders, two of the sock thingy’s and three regular bird feeders. Yes, I have a hobby that is considered therapy from many professionals. Take away the Prozac and Zoloft folks just start digging in the dirt. I promise it will make you so very happy.