I had to move the peach tree to install the trampoline.
I dumped the bucket of strawberry plants into my sewing studio sink and filled the sink with water so I could then fill the bucket so I might water the transplanted peach tree.
Ruby and Margot jumped on the trampoline next to the peach tree while I prepared the new beds for the strawberry plants that had now been in a sink of water for two days.
They were thirsty and I sent them to my studio for a glass of water from the sink full of strawberry plants that I put there because I needed the bucket to water the peach tree that I moved because of the trampoline.
Andy and I brushed our teeth together, talking through foamy mouths about stuff. He heard it first.
“Are you doing laundry?”
“No.”
Five hours prior, they had left the water on in the sink that was stopped up with strawberry plants because they were excited to jump on the trampoline that was where the peach tree once was.
We wore rubber boots into my work space that was underwater, drawers full of lakes, floor like a creek, materials floating in the pool made by the water that was left on over the sink that was stopped up by strawberry plants because I had to move them to get to the bucket to water the peach tree that was moved because of the trampoline.
Thankful:
Andy heard that running water, shopvacs, the stuff that is ruined is replaceable, my children are always well hydrated, the strawberry plants stayed in the sink like good little strawberry plants (and the worms didn’t go too far), my studio floor is now very clean, the girls slept through the whole crisis, my husband has remarkable patience and humor and things that start out like what the hell?! end with oh babe as he laughs, sighs and refills the sink with water for the strawberry plants that were in there because I needed the bucket to water the peach tree that was moved because of the trampoline.
The strawberry plants were free, the peach tree on clearance, the trampoline only $50. But this whole eating homegrown, mopping-up-late-night mess, jumping-til-it-aches combo? No quantifier. It’s our deliberate, messy, full life.
