I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a little bit odd.
I’m actually quite comfortable with that fact. It took me many years to get to this point of embracing my quirks, so I’m doing it with zeal.
Still, sometimes I have to chuckle at myself.
Yesterday was a gorgeous, must-be-outside fall day. So when the little guy went down for his nap, I informed the big guy that I was going to be out in the garden, digging holes and inserting bulbs. I hauled all of my trappings into the yard and surveyed the scene. Then I grabbed the shovel and began to dig.
About halfway through I noticed that I’d been talking to myself. Not even myself, really. More like the plants. I was talking to the plants. Out in my yard. And probably loudly enough that had anyone been walking past on the sidewalk, they might have cast a wary eye at me. There I was, pulling out a begonia and saying, “I’m sorry…I have to do this.” Who apologizes to begonias? Me, apparently.
I think I apologized to the cosmos too. When I pulled them out to make room for the bulbs in the back garden. And I think I might have said something to the bulbs themselves as I was trying to get a couple of them to stay in position before I shoved the dirt back on top. Something like, “C’mon. Work with me here.” And I think I may have complained to the anemone bulbs: “How does one really know which was is up with you guys?”
I can see you now. You’re backing slowly away from your keyboard. You’re wondering if this website is a safe place for you to visit. I know, I know. I wonder the same thing myself.