A glorious chore.

Nearly every morning lately, I take great enjoyment in watering our little garden patch. With the generally warm weather, the mornings are still cool and refreshing. I place shoes on my children still in their jammies, and we go outside. James follows me around, complaining the way babies do, that I don't give him a turn with the watering can but gets distracted by his sister riding her red trike around with excitement. I talk to my plants like a crazy lady, saying "Good morning little squash! You are looking well this morning." I admire my ugly black knock of crocs as I look down. Sometimes I pick a tomato, sometimes I scowl at bug-bitten leaves. But always I thank God for such fine mornings, and the goodness of a little work and routine. And a reward of a cup of coffee awaiting my reentering of our sturdy little house.