I am not a gardener. If you have any doubt about that, simply ask my mother. She used to punish me by making me weed. Ick. However, for some strange reason, I LOVE gardens. So I guess it's a good thing that the man I married loves to putter in the yard. It's also a wonderful thing that the house that we bought last summer is a gardener's paradise. We have 3 established fruit trees (apple, white peach, and pear), a fenced veggie garden which includes a strawberry patch, rhubarb, raspberry bushes, and many flower beds. The tulips and daffodils of early spring were lovely, and right now, the irises and the peonies are breathtaking. I simply adore peonies ~ their warm, spicy scent, and the way the bouquet arranged on my kitchen table greets me as I wander through the house attending to my daily chores.
The kids have helped Daddy plant the veggies. My role has been merely to choose the varieties that we will be harvesting. Fortunately, they seem to have inherited their father's love of dirt and order outside. I have also already conned them into doing all the weeding, pleading my growing belly. They actually enjoy it, though, and fight to be the one tapped to water the seedlings each evening.
So, now, all I have to do is supervise, and wait (impatiently) for those first fruits to ripen, and enjoy all the fresh bounty of my garden.