February Will Never Be Sweeter
Tomorrow begins the month of February, which �officially� ends my disdain for the month of January.
February brings with it Valentine�s Day and President�s Day. My husband, after a 60-day sabbatical, heads back to the flower beds of the golf course that he oversees. I envy his ability to not have to deal with the month of January. I do not envy his early mornings in February, in the elements with temperatures, at times, only in the single digits. But then, as we tell our children, all of life is a trade-off.
January, for my husband, was spent planning our garden. Every year, he plots on graph paper the layout of each flower bed, which ones will be added to and those that will possibly be moved. As I looked over this year�s plans, I noticed a definite change. Over in a corner of the yard was a new perennial bed. And it contained a sign denoting what it is. Or more importantly, whose it is. There, in a little spot amongst the other flowers and plants was an area
with a sign that says Madelynne�s Garden, complete with its own little wrought iron bench. Seems while I�d been focused on making sure our daughter had all of the necessary paraphernalia for this new baby that will arrive in February, my husband focused on a sweet and whimsical gift that will be fun and educational for her.
Something they can do together. My car seat, diapers and little pink clothes pale in comparison to this sentimental scheme.
Speaking of February, let�s hold out some hope that we won�t experience near the cold and snow that we have during the past 30 days. A friend of mine who relocated to Florida a few years ago called last week to inquire as to whether I still enjoyed the changing of the seasons after the January we�ve had.
I think, because I still take pleasure in two of the four seasons, that I fit that profile. I love spring. I delight in fall. And for that matter, until the mercury rises above 85 and the humidity matches it, summer�s pretty nice too.
So I�ll stay put and continue to bemoan these winter months endeavoring to focus on the flowers that will bloom and the birds that will chirp in the not too distant future.
And this new little granddaughter that will be here to see it.
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