I always know when spring has officially arrived. How do I know? Well I begin to dream about planting gardens, ordering baby chicks, and all things outdoors. Last night I had a funny dream, I even woke up my husband to tell him about it before I forgot the major parts. You see, I was in an old klunker pick-up on a Big City freeway somewhere out there trying to find a meeting of some sorts or another to attend. The meeting was in a large, very tall building and I needed to park in a several story parting lot. The meeting must have been real boring because I don't remember a thing about it! As I was leaving, I couldn't remember which level I had parked my truck on so I asked a passer-by if the level I was on, was the one that came in off the freeway. I explained to him, that I was an ole country, farm gal and didn't know my way around the city. He just laughed at me and looking down his nose, he said, "So what, I don't care MULCH about you finding your truck!" (acting very snooty and superior about his own gardening accomplishments) Well, I really didn't think that was a very kind answer, so I kindly informed him, "I also use mulch in my gardens, BUT I MAKE MY OWN COMPOST." Because every good gardener knows, mulch is good, but.......... compost always trumps mulch!
On our trip to Arizona to see family we stopped in Sedona and visited several Art Galleries. While wandering around this beautiful, quaint town nestled among the high mountains we found these stepping stones engraved with messages written by children.
After going to the back porch, pulling open one of the dresser drawers filled with stored fruit and picking out the crispest apple in the drawer to eat, my husband came back with a grin on his face. He told me once again one of his favorite memories of his Grandma, Deseret. When he was young she would tell him about how she had to eat soft, rotten, mushy apples all winter. Every few days her mother would send her down into the cellar and have her pick through the stored apples. "Bring up the apples that are bruised, beginning to rot, and have turned mushy." her mother would direct. " We need to save the good apples for later."
Needless to say, Grandma never ate a good, crisp apple all winter long. By saving the good apples for later they would inevitably be turning soft and mushy before they were eaten. I guess the moral of the story is.........saving for a rainy day is good advice, but don't put of living and enjoying life TODAY!