Herb Garden

Last week, the boys and I dug a 6x8 ft patch in the yard to make an herb garden. I have wanted my own little garden for years, but this is the first time (in a rental house, no less!!) that I actually followed through.

It was the perfect day for digging not too hot, not too cold.

So, after we measured carefully with our tools, dig we did. The boys had a ball. And really, so did I.

The soil here in the South is perfect for digging, quite sandy and loose. I edged the perimeter with the shovel while the boys dug and hauled weeds with their diggers and dump trucks. As we worked/bulldozed/transported, we all talked in deep manly voices, because, of course, that's how construction workers communicate with each other on the work site. 

We must have worked outside for several hours. It was such a happy time of conversation and laughter. I don’t think I will ever forget that morning together with my boys.

It made quite an impression on the boys too, or at least the digging in the dirt did, because the following day, while I was doing the breakfast dishes, I heard the back door open and some feet scurry out. When I called and asked, I heard the boys exclaim (in deep manly voices, no less), “Just checking progress on the construction site, Mom!!!!”

Perhaps 30 minutes later, after I had gone inside to put Noah down for a nap, I heard the familiar squeak and rush of the backyard hose being turned on. At first, I cringed… but then I started laughing. I knew EXACTLY what they were doing.

When I got outside the hose was running full blast into the herb garden/construction site (thankfully we had not planted anything, but had just been turning over the soil and preparing the bed). My garden, now looked like this:

Surprisingly, the boys were walking around the edges, being very careful not to step in the mud. “Boys, what are you up to?” I asked. They looked up a bit sheepish and hesitant. Waiting for the word of reprimand. Waiting for the call to turn off the hose and come inside.

I started laughing again. And thought, you know what? This is what dreams are made of. Doesn’t every little boy dream of mud and dump trucks? Of squishing and squashing? Of getting dirty and feeling the pleasant squelchiness of mud between your toes?

So, in my own childishness, and with a huge smile on my face, I said, “You know what, boys? Just go for it. Take off your sandals and go play in the mud.” Their faces lit up. Literally. LIT. UP.

I know. Some of you might call me crazy. But I’m telling you, this is the stuff dreams are made of.

Oh boy, oh boy, they had so much fun. Their smiles and excitement will always be etched in my memory. I let them play till their hearts content, and I admit… I put my feet in too.