I am home from running, and weary. It's unseasonably warm outside and I want a cool shower. First I must attend to the dog's needs - she's happy to be home and in her yard, where she is comfortable doing her business. Waiting for her, I notice the lilac bushes are budding out with green leaves. I wonder if they will finally bloom this year.
Inside, the dog is grateful for the large bowl of cool water that I set by her food. She slurps up water and collapses on the cool wood floor.
Meanwhile I notice that the tiny pots holding the seeds we have planted are dry. My kids are beyond the age where they stare and marvel at how much a tiny plant can grow in just a day.
While I water them I notice the ones that were only two inches tall are now three, and those that were only sprouts yesterday are now one or two inches tall.
And still more have tiny shoots of green, barely visible, starting to peek out above the soil.
I don't have a watering can, just an old glass bottle from Trader Joe's that used to hold lemonade or something equally refreshing. I have to hold the bottle steady so as not to splash too much water over the tiny plants, uprooting the delicate seedlings.
The mourning doves that live in the juniper tree coo, and a jay lectures the neighborhood's stray cat.
Tomorrow I will again marvel at how fast the tiny plants have grown, and worry about the ones that have not yet sprouted. Soon I will have to consider when to thin and what. I will watch anxiously for the day when the snow has melted off Black Butte, the threat of frost has passed, and I know it's safe to move them to their permanent beds outside our living room window.
But first, I'm going to take that shower.