The clover has taken over my back yard.  I’m glad to see it.  The dog disagrees; she’s allergic to grass and to the slender clover that rises in the plushness of the rain-soaked earth.  She glances a bit sadly over her shoulder as she picks her careful and dainty way to a spot less overgrown than most of the yard.  I smile.  The grass guys come today, I call out.  As though she can understand.

My muscles scream at me as I move through the kitchen, cracking eggs, chopping parsley.  After a week of neglect they resent having to climb back on the stepper.  Too bad so sad, my brain messages to its minions as it sends the signal to commence their work.  I had a lot to do last week.  I can walk most days and still do my awkward adaptive yoga, but when my responsibilities increase, my exercise goes out the window.

I take my breakfast to the porch and smile as I settle into the rocker.  My plants thrive on the deck and in the pots around me.  Along the driveway, day lilies get ready to bloom. April showers have brought a delightful lushness to my yard.  I contemplated running the sprinkler last evening but decided the ground had enough moisture.  I’ll watch it, though; I don’t want to lose the bed of perennials. They’ve taken hold.  In their midst, the female holly still struggles.  But I have faith. She’s a survivor.

It’s the seventh day of the thirtieth month of My Year Without Complaining.  On this lovely spring morning, I’m grateful that life continues.

From above and in the dappled light, you might not be able to see how well the plants have done, but the sight of them pleases me.  I hope your gardens grow as well as mine this year.