Yellow

My daffodils are blooming! Here in California Spring comes early and the first sign is always the daffodils. Last year, when my grandson Eamon had only been in this country for a month and a half, and knew very little English - he had learned the word "yellow" because it was his favorite color. In fact, when asked what his favorite part of the movie "Cars" was, he promptly responded, "Yellow!!". When he saw the daffodils last year he got very excited and pointed to them saying, "Yellow", which, of course, added a whole new element to my enjoyment of them.

Gardening had always been a bad word to me - much like exercise! As a kid, I grew up in Tucson where 90 degrees is considered a cool day. Please don't give me the "but it's a dry heat" line. Trust me, after 30 years living in it - 112 is 112!!! And, being the oldest child in the family, one of my jobs was to pull weeds. Back then, we had a typical Tucson front yard - rolls of black plastic covered by gray pea gravel with a strategically placed palm tree or some other desert flora. Somehow, those danged weeds always managed to break through the plastic. So, there I was, a gawky kid kneeling on rocks that were hot enough to cook an egg (trust me, we actually tried this once!!), pulling weeds. Hating every minute of it.

So, imagine my surprise when I moved to my current home to discover that a)we have grass, b)it doesn't get to 112, and c)gardening can be fun! So now I'm rapidly becoming one of those little old ladies who "putter" in the garden, planting bulbs, growing herbs, trimming the lavendar. And loving it.

Especially when a sweet little boy loves the yellow flowers!