A quiet Sunday morning.

Right this very moment, I am alone in my home.

About three minutes ago, my husband took the boys out for pancakes and grocery shopping. By the time I have completed this sentence, they will be pulling out of the driveway. Let me check out the window.

Nope, he is scraping the van’s windows of last night’s frost. When a mama gets an hour at home, alone, every moment counts - even the one before they actually leave the premises.

I hear the whirl of the washing machine, getting the grunge out of our bathroom towels. Last night, the baby peed through his diaper, wetting his undershirt and the tops of his pants - that has not happened in a long time. Those clothes are washing with the towels as are my jeans. One load of laundry on Sunday; one load and it all goes in – reds, towels, peed-on clothes, jeans, white shirts – scandalous, simply scandalous.

The change of seasons is near. On Friday, it snowed. Yesterday, we walked into town with our winter coats unzipped and breathed in warm fresh air. It is supposed to get into the 50s today. That is warm for this time of year, unseasonably warm they say. We welcome the warmth, and we begin to think about afternoons spent playing at the park, scooping sand in the sandbox and pouring water into cans at the spray pad.

I remember two summers ago, my husband and Aidan had gone to the CSA so that I could garden. It was the middle of July and I was nine months pregnant. With sweat pouring out of me, I was kneeling/laying on the ground while pulling weeds along the edge of our driveway. I should have been inside with my feet up, sipping on strawberry lemonade from a chilled glass filled with ice cubes. At the time, however, I wanted to be able to garden, to tend to my home, to do everything I wanted to do despite being nine months pregnant. Oh, how hot I was outside that day under the blazing morning sun. I did not last very long outside, but I was determined and finished my row.

Last year, my children were so young at ages three and one. I tried my best to garden, pulling weeds during nap times and planting while corralling the children away from the attractive petals of the flowers. It was difficult, and much did not get accomplished, but I kept at it and eventually a motley of colorful flowers emerged with only a small amount of weeds embellishing them. I never did get around to cutting back all of the perennials, and my intention to plant more bulbs never came to fruition, but I feed my kids healthy snacks most days and kept them from running down the driveway and into the street, so I figure I had done well.

So, this is the year when I will get outside and tend to my garden with more diligence and focus. I am thinking about the garden beds and what to add to them. I keep my garden in the front yard so that my children can have the backyard to play. We do have a vegetable garden in the backyard, but that is part of their play space. I am not a very good gardener in that I do not know Latin names of plants and much of what I plant dies, but I am learning and loving the process of it all.

During our walk yesterday, we saw the snow melting.

My plants were beginning to wake up. My garden was calling to me.

Oh, the aspirations of this mama – to plant, to grow, to weed – so much like raising children.

Our first flower!

Time to spring forward. Time to look forward to spring. May your musings be joyful. And may you find a few quiet moments to bring them to fruition.