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Yellow Tulips

My Key is Home 
By Maggie Turner  

Sunday, May 7, 2000

My Key is Home


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Attila had today off work. He started his day by sleeping late. I am an early riser and began bumping about in the kitchen at 6:30 a.m. When he arose, we had a quiet morning coffee on the back deck, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze. Relaxing in the back yard allows us to take an inventory of what needs to be done. We chat about our plans for the garden and the small tasks necessary to bring them to reality. Eventually silence falls comfortably between as we contemplate action.

My first activity involved securing the clematis to the trellis. My second activity was to don my new gardening gloves and head out to the compost. I was not looking forward to this. Last night Attila had stated his intention of dismantling the compost in search of my key. I lost the key and I was determined that I would take responsibility for finding it. Grabbing a bucket I proceeded to collect and remove the catkins dumped yesterday. I removed one bucket and started on a second. To my delight and surprise, I saw the leather of my car key chain peeking at me through the catkins. Thank goodness.

After spending several hours in the garden, we returned to the kitchen. Soon the smell of bacon filled the house. We breakfasted on bacon, peaches, maple syrup, pancakes, and coffee.

My pleasure in the meal was definitely heightened by my sense of relief at finding my key. Attila was equally relieved, he would not have to dismantle the compost.

We spent the rest of the day weeding, transplanting, and watering. The rain promised by the weather channel did not materialize. We need rain. I would prefer a long and soft night rain. In my ideal world, it rains in the early morning hours and the sun shines brightly each day.

I spent the late afternoon taking photographs of the blooms in the garden: English Primrose, Periwinkle, Sand Cherry, Lilac, Grape Hyacinth, Creeping Phlox, and Dead Nettle. The constant wind made it quite difficult to capture focused images. What a pleasure to try, though.

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