Spring is springing. Happy and yet sad...

These lovely tulips were on display at Eastern Market this weekend. While it was bitter cold as we walked around the market, it was really starting to make me feel like spring is here.

But alas, tulips also make me think of our house, which I dearly miss and yet hope is near selling.

At this point of the year in Cincinnati, I'm guessing the tulips would be blooming. I imagine the daffodils would already be gone.


I planted a row of red tulips around the front yard and several rows of yellow tulips in the back. Oh, and I had a line of red and pink ones around the little pond.

After the tulips will come the irises (yellow on the side and deep purple in the back), the fragrant white lilacs, leafy fern and dozens of green hostas. Later in the season, bunches of giant pink and magenta peonies will dot the front garden. And finally, as summer wears on, an eruption of yellow tiger lilies will brighten the backyard.

Oh, how I love those tiger lilies. Whenever I looked through the back glass doors and saw the line of yellow lilies, I always did a double-take because it appeared as if a great splash of sunlight cascaded across our yard alone -- even on the dreariest days.

I was surprised to learn how much I loved gardening. When we first bought our house, I thought, "How in the world am I going to keep these poor things alive?" But I soon began spending hours digging in the dirt, sometimes with rocks embedded in my knees and scratches from the the rose bush running up and down my arms. No matter, though, I just loved to be outside with my little basket of garden tools.

And of course, I practically lived at Home Depot in the floral section.

(I used to devise ways to purchase hundreds of dollars of flowers a season without having Patrick notice. That took some creative financing -- like taking $40 out of the ATM for "necessities" like "groceries" and combining that with a $60 debit card purchase at Home Depot, which included other "important purchases" like "refuse bags" and "paint.")

Sure, the ATM card isn't as bruised as of late. I haven't had to jump through fiscal hoops to feed my flower habit. And we're not paying two mortgages, so that's a plus. But I have to confess that I really miss our little garden. My hands seem empty. And I feel like I'm missing crucial time breathing the fresh air and fussing with the dirt.