Paradise Found

On the first day of spring, my rain boots are caked with dried mud—neatly positioned on newspaper in front of the porch closet. The barn cats return sleepily from their hunt. Soon, there will be kittens, I think. I would like coffee. I grind whole beans from the general store. I like the sound of general store on my tongue, though quietly: my husband is still asleep. I think I will drive to the greenhouse today. I bring a gardening catalogue to read on the deck. I love owning outdoor furniture—to imagine barbecue parties. Maybe I will buy a sausage grinder attachment for my stand mixer—but I am ahead of myself. These bulbs can be sent direct from Holland. Imagine the garden festooned with Edison lights over hollyhock and daylilies. The tulips have sprouted. I will send for Queen of the Prairie. I should wash the windows today. I can enjoy the rain in a clean house, and I think it might rain based on this frenzied spider. I think I am pregnant. But waiting to be certain. I can’t stand the thought of painting the home office just yet. A nursery should be yellow and I’m not in a very yellow mood today. I feel pink. At least, rosier than usual—a good hue for morning. I wonder if a baby would prefer wallpaper or a mural. I would like to paint a mural of lemon trees fully fruited. I might string a clothesline. I like the thought of feeling like a pioneer woman, maybe a shepherdess. Pastoral but not rustic. If I make cookies this afternoon, will we run out of buckwheat honey? Our neighbour to the east owns an apiary. I imagine it would be nice to wear a bee suit. I should invite her for coffee and squares and ask what it’s like to be covered in bees. Yes! That would be just the thing. First I will prune these peonies. These rose bushes. I don’t blame the deer for trimming the hosta last year. These are no royal botanical gardens. I can bathe naked. Admit that I like abstract expressionism and young wine. Truly I prefer fresh cut flowers to almost anything else. Who doesn’t like to feel like Audrey Heburn filming War & Peace. I feel like Count Bezukhov: perhaps I know the meaning, but I must tend to my garden now.