A. on the steps

I’m ready to garden, hungry to get my hands in the dirt. A. wants to play Owl and the Pussycat Have a Tea-party. We settle on making mudpies in the still-empty annual herb bed, where I’ll plant basil, cilantro, dill, parsley, calendula, and if I have room, nasturtiums.

“This is MY garden,” she tells me.
“Well, actually, this is Mommy’s herb garden,” I reply.
“NO, it’s MY GARDEN.”
“Okay. We’ll talk about it later.”

Meanwhile, the wheelbarrow sits waiting for my body to work it.

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