The Spade That Glistened Like a New Knife

Mother and I dazedly browsed the isles of flowers at Lowe's. I was immediately won over by everything that was pretty; ignoring the practical, typical inpatients. Others sifted through the isles with an authority most likely emitting from the list of flowers they've already planned in their hands. I hand no plan I was just going to get some grass seeds for a science project, but I am an adept impulse shopper. I got to chose the flowers, me, without more than a hint of discretion from mom! We left with plastic pots full of colorful impracticality.

I needed to plant them all now while I was inspired. If I hesitated for a mere second I would lose all interest and they would wither in their plastic pots.

I scavenged all of the equipment I could find which only consisted of a child-size shovel, gloves and my shoes. The spade (of which I pride myself of knowing the name of) was probably rusting somewhere in our yard, a result of us assuming that "I can always get it later".

Lily was helping me; she trailed along behind me as I dragged the package of potting soil to the front door where the pots I was going to plant were. I got my shovel and removed the old, dry soil from the pots, from which a tree that we planted last (or the one before that...?) Christmas's offspring was sprouting. It was feeble and not nearly as lush as it's parent; it was a Charlie Brown tree. I looked across the street where a van with "(insert name here)'s gardening services" was printed in green. Behind that van, in front of our other neighbors was "(someone)'s landscaping" . I saw the workers come out with tools far superior to mine. Their spade shone like a new knife, their rake had no broken bristles, and they most definitely weren't using a child's size shovel.

I planted the plants before I got discouraged. I spent another forty minutes taking pictures of them. I didn't even bother to put the potting mix back, I can always get it later.