Spring Again
My second March without a backyard, and while yes, I miss things about the last place we rented together (especially the thick grass where the girls ran circles), our first rental is what I keep conjuring. The explosion of chard and arugula, us battling the spotted cucumber beetles, our wedding altar next to the garden beds.
Now I plant greens in wine barrels outside my duplex, the girls kicking balls up the concrete alley, me with tender starts and spade, and I remember us wild—before marriage and kids, before resentments took root—when we were just churning the soil.
Photo Credit: Rick Gordon
Great imagery in your story.