garden boxes in our homestead

I'm sitting here at the kitchen table with more than enough thoughts to fill a page of single spaced documentation. I love sitting here, at the kitchen table. If I tilt my head slightly to the left or right, I can see the menfolk snuggled in for the night...and if I sorta lean to the left or right, I can see a toddler wreaking havoc on our dear family room. It's a good feeling.

Normally, I would be confined to share my thoughts and insanities confined in our "bonus room"..."spare room"..."office"..."place where all that has no home ends up". It's a pleasant room that directs your attention to the picture wall...a conjogulation of photos that I have gathered or found since moving in. There are gaps, not only in position, but in those faces represented. Many people who are very important in my life, currently fail to show on this wall. That my friends....is due to spontaneity and poor planning.

I get to sit here tonite, enjoy the last light of the day, listening to the sounds of a family enjoying their show, simply due to bringing my work computer home. There is a hope, soon, I'll be able to make this event a common event. And one day when I have a computer that isn't as old as Jesus and has a battery that is able to run while not plugged in...I'll be able to actually sit on the couch and annoy my Handy Man (aka Jason) with my quick typing abilities. PS...I pride myself in my typing abilities...Jason loathes them. It's an issue we are working on to help us grow stronger as a couple. In the meantime...we keep our distance as I try to increase my Words Per Minute abilities.

It was a good day.

We got the garden boxes built. And then they were driven into the ground. And I wasn't ready to stop then. I drove my pretty little toosh (or widening toosh, take your pick) to Home Depot, where I purchased all I needed to fill our boxes with the goodness that is compost and peat moss and soil. An investment...and so far...one of the best I've ever made. So then...we filled the boxes. Me and Handy Man. And the help of our good friend Fingers. It was accompanied by the joyful sounds of boys hammering nails into a tree house.

Like I said...It was a good day.

I came into the house smelling of dirt and compost and God knows what...and all I could think about, was the fact this was the best I have felt in months. My blood was rushing and my heart was racing. It was like I had just gone running...without the, you know...RUNNING. It was awesome.

I have a great amount of excitement in knowing we will be eating our own labours sometime this summer. And for the many years to come. And by putting in those pretty boxes out there, full of foul smelling soil...we are doing what we can...to make our house...a HOME.