Tuesday, May 29, 2007
I grew up in the country. I mean it was serious country. When our dogs got loose they would come home days later with chicken feathers dripping from the corners of their mouths. Inevitably, that would be followed by a phone call from our neighbor down the way advising that the next time he caught our dogs on his land, he'd shoot them himself. And to our way of thinking, that seemed just. After all, we're talking chickens here.
It was that country.
Needless to say, I couldn't wait to get out of there. College could not arrive fast enough, and with it, dreams of eventual cosmospolitan hedonism. The funny thing is, now that I've arrived at a certain (tired) point in my life, two kids later, I've gained a new appreciation for all that the country has to offer for the younger set.
Gardening for example. Gardening is supposed to be good for the soul, right? And what could be more important than proper hydration? Here, Monkey learns from an expert - Grandma B. To my untrained eye, that plant looks of the smokeable variety, but she assures me that by midsummer, it will be abloom with colorful flowers.
Perhaps a closer inspection is in order.
Armed with his newfound knowledge, the young Padawan is ready to wield his own garden hose.
Monkey discovers that sometimes the best flowers are those that require the least amount of effort to cultivate. "Poofs," as we named them, came in abundant supply and provided endless hours of amusement.
They can get sticky though.
It's all right. That's part of the charm of being up country. Getting dirty comes with the territory. A little bit of dirt, a lot of fresh air, wide open spaces, and clear star-filled nights ... sounds like a fair trade off.
Ever the princess, Miss Mina is still undecided about the whole country experience.