What the lilacs mean

Today I got very muddy. This morning, mom and I went to J&L Garden and bought strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, asparagus and rhubarb. With the exception of the strawberries, this is clearly a long-term investment. I'm showing the Lord I'm serious about making this place my own.

At 4 p.m. I had the ridiculously unrealistic idea (as is my trademark) that I could get these all in the ground today. What really happened is I got in the raspberries and we had a late dinner.

Getting in the raspberries sounds so simple, but it required mowing a patch by the sunny fence, raking it out, rototilling 3-4x over, deciding I really meant to put it on the opposite (pasture) side of the fence), repeating these first steps, digging 10 holes, putting 2T of root stimulant in each and separating a large mass of roots in one pot into 10 canes. Then came the actual putting them in the ground part, and watering them in. Then cleaning up.

This is getting to the time of year where many hours of yard work every day are going to be required to live the dream we came here to live. Despite the already-present aches from my yanking on a stubborn Craigslist lawnmower starter WAY too many times today, I really, really love it.

My spouse, who is far more private with his mental demons than I am, also finds great solace in the lugging of wood and the bagging of leaves. For both of us, it is our own little white house on the hill, our personal funny farm.

Today I found particular enjoyment hearing myself utter the phrase, "Sophie, go up and get me the hoe out of the front shed, please." There would be something I haven't said before, and not just because I now have two sheds. Back in LA that would have been more like, "Soph, don't go outside of the gates because you'll be run over or fall within eyesight of the pervs in front of the porn store." We're movin' on up.

However, there were some conversations, some assessments, let's vaguely say, which led to greater, discouraging understanding of the state of those unimportant, worldly things today that, however eternally irrelevant, threaten our earthly peace to destroy (that awkward sentence will be even more awkward for people not familiar with LDS hymns).

Anyway, David became somewhat glowery, as he is wont to do under such news, and I threw myself into yard work.

Several weeks ago I decided that the only thing missing in this idyllic scenario we've just been handed is a lilac tree. I almost bought one, but it seemed frivolous and would take years to be what I really wanted it to be. Lilacs hold enormous significance for me, they just drip with bittersweet Bountiful childhood nostalgia, along with that amazing scent and comforting color.

In the back corner of our yard, back behind the shed, is a very large, tall bush. I've been watching the bush carefully as little green things have begun popping up all over. I was waiting to find out if it really was--if it could be--what I really hoped it would be.

Because all around the house and in the yard are little tokens of things that show me that God knows me, that he is working in my life. They give evidence to the fact He is directing my life as I've prayed for him to take over and do. They are little things that would probably seem silly to you, but as they have piled up, I have really seen them as nothing less than tokens of affection from a loving God, a reassurance that everything really will be okay and He's in charge.

So, in short, I spent some time scrutinizing the bush today. Then went in and told David, "It's a lilac. Everything is going to be okay."

He actually nodded.