Oh, there's nothing like coming home after being away. And coming home to a garden lush and green, fragrant and blooming - how lucky can one person be?
Of course having been away for two weeks in May means I'm behind on everything, but somehow it doesn't matter. Yes, the winter squash absolutely must get planted tomorrow, and there are weeds everywhere. But somehow I look at the perennial beds filled with fresh, lime green hostas, and red-stalked rhubarb, and the first of what I call the San Pellegrino poppies, and tulips of every colour, and all those weeds just don't matter. At least not today.
When I travel by air I have to go on steroids to clear out my sinuses - which means that for about two months I have the gift of a sense of smell. When I got out of the car to open the gate I was overwhelmed by the wonderful scent of the air - just the air. Green and fresh and woodsy. Is this what it smells like all the time?
So in the two days I've been home I've had my nose stuck in every plant and flower, storing up all the wonderful scents while I can. Especially the lilacs - there's a whole childhood of memories tied to the scent of lilacs.