Freshly painted front door. New green chairs on the porch, assembled with ratchet and allen wrench in the living room as February departed. Pots of artemisia and cedar sage, tropical milkweed and plumbago, rolled in the grass until the roots loosen. Move the salvia greggi to a sunnier spot. Separate the manfreda. Water in the blackfoot daisies. Right now it’s easy to believe that everything will grow — drought and fierce sun and mosquitoes, so many mosquitoes, too far away to seem real. I get Chris and his torn jeans into the yard. We lift and dig and pat the soil. And then the following morning, as if I willed it myself, the rain arrives.
March 7, 2015