This morning is gloriously sunshiney, filled with puffs of springtime breezes, and perfect. Much like the past two days. The only difference? Every single muscle, joint, tendon, even my skin...hurts. I feel as though I aged 50 years overnight.
Why, you ask? Well, yesterday, after the most delicious mother's day brunch at our favorite Italian restaurant, we headed home. At first, I intended to sit on our porch and read (I'm in the middle of Planting Dandelions: Field Notes From a Semi-Domesticated Life by Kyran Pittman. It is fantastic. Go get it now). Then we stepped out of the car and the garden beckoned me. So off went the dressy clothes and on went the t-shirt and denim. I grabbed the wheelbarrow, shovel, rake, and gloves and prepared myself to only divide a few black-eyed susans and be done. Ha! I pulled, yanked, shoveled, and spaded up countless stubborn weeds. I transplanted a hydrangea that has failed to thrive. I divided those black-eyed susans and made four new spots for them. I raked out bits of ornamental grasses left over from our assault on them last week. I neatened up the beds. Then I fertilized. Oh, did I fertilize.
In the process, our son Jack was my partner in crime. He rotated between shoveling his sand under his playhouse and helping me. This is the first year he really is 1) interested in it and 2) able to be of any real assistance. He wheeled the wheelbarrow. He picked up sticks. He pulled easy weeds out. And, he was there when I found the rabbit nest. I moved aside what looked to be a lump of straw in my vegetable garden. Well, it was a lump...of straw covering four baby rabbits. I literally squealed as the four rabbits hopped out and scattered. The glee in Jack's eyes was immeasurable. He giggled over the rabbits and my scream. Of course, I had to explain that rabbits did not hatch from eggs. Then we had to catch them because they were trapped inside the vegetable garden walls. This was his favorite part...because both my husband and I were holding these tiny bunnies (he named each bunny "tiny").
Later I found a toad. Remembering his joy over the rabbits and the fact that he remembers toads from two springs ago, I called him over. I had the toad in my gloved hand. Jack reached out, wide-eyed, grabbed the toad in his palm and whispered things to it only the toad and Jack will know. Secrets between a pre-schooler and toad. I love it. He named it "Henry Toad."
For Mother's Day I received many gifts...new beads for my bracelet, a handmade card, brunch with my boys...but the best was the look in the eyes of our son as he witnessed the miracle of nature right in our very own yard. When I was giving him a bath last night I asked him what his favorite thing was that day, and his response was "the animals." Mine was simply, to be his momma.