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Ready to get hands and nails dirty in the dirt

I’m hoping by the time this edition is in readers’ hands or on their electronic devices, my hands will be dirty, my fingernails in need of a good scrubbing with soap and water.

There’s nothing quite like working in the flower beds, and that’s what I hope to be doing.

I am ready to plant, people. (Good that I used that comma there between plant and people, yes? Otherwise you’d think me mad and wonder what on earth is she putting into the earth had I written “I am ready to plant people.”)

Come May, I hate to be in wait-to-plant mode, but the recent weather has meant that’s been a good practice to follow.

Try to hold off until May 15 or so to plant, we’re told, to get past that danger point.

Twice this past week the weather app on my phone was dinging with conviction the warnings about frost advisories and alerts, and I later saw evidence of that on my drive in to work, some places hit more than others.

The weather heads-up reminded me of the value of never throwing away an old plastic shower liner curtain or some sheets that have seen better days.

Out from stuffed-away storage they came and over some perennials they went for protection, along with a little verbal “hang-in-there” encouragement from yours truly.

I worried about some of my hosta, hardy as they are, and some other plants that had begun to make their annual debut in recent weeks, no doubt confused by some really nice weather we had, which was just as quickly replaced with some not-so-nice temperatures.

I also covered up a couple of hydrangea flowers I’d repotted, having purchased them in memory of my parents as part of a display for Easter services.

They got the stay-warm-and-well pep talk, too, before I tucked them in, along with an apology that I just couldn’t hold off any longer, having them on the kitchen island still in their holiday containers.

Honestly, some spring weather around here makes me feel way colder than when it’s winter. Now how can that be?

There’s no greater mood-enhancing exercise for me this time of year than visiting a greenhouse to check out hanging baskets and everything else that’s blooming and beautiful, which is basically everything.

The basement has become a kind of mini-greenhouse with “impatiens” hanging baskets that I’m “impatient” about getting outdoors.

And there are varied coleus plants, their colored foliage nothing short of spectacular.

I’ve been plotting about planting and porch decorating for weeks, ever since my sister Linda sent that package of garden gizmos and solar lights as part of a birthday present.

I have those in a living room with a table nearby stockpiled with all kinds of stuff to put outdoors, all in anticipation of things getting decorated in time for the Memorial Day holiday when family will be coming to visit for the first time in a l-o-n-g time.

Better Half walks by all this, resigned to stay calm and out of the way so no one gets hurt.

Growing up, I never thought I’d look forward to buying plants and mulch and doing flower beds and such.

But then I never thought I’d be wearing a mask other than at Halloween either.

Ohio’s mask mandate order ending June 2 — now that’s news that “grows” on me.

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