weeding the wooly thyme

ever, since we moved here,
six years ago this month,

i've enjoyed the pleasure of an annual spring ritual;

weeding the wooly thyme.

there is always that one early spring day, when it's warm enough to go sit on my little gardening pillow and pick at the crabgrass and sorrel that has weedled it's way into the thyme on our front stoop.

the previous owners had layed large relatively flat pieces of flagstone in a semi circle in front of our porch, which they then planted with aromatic wooly thyme, to soften the gaps.

i have thought about getting rid of the rocks because for anyone with a cane or wheels, the stones can be a bit difficult to maneuver;

but i can't bring myself to uproot this fine fragrant little garden.

it seems to be worth the minor tediums it takes to keep it up,
for there is not only the weeding of it,

but  keeping it tidy when  it captures rose petals and cherry blossoms, as they fly in the whirls of mischievous spring eddies, or again, when it captures the cedar pods and fronds, embracing them in the autumn blusters of the west wind.

then there are the creatures it harbours. busy red ants and creepy crawlies that come out in the night to wander about on the warmth of the porch.

still- there is such pleasure in the one particular day, that is chill when standing, but warm when low to the ground.

the little creatures are still sleepy enough not to pinch and the late winter rains have softened the roots of the undesireables.

so with great joy i sit, surgically removing every last naked root i can find, while carefully lifting the skirts of the wooly thyme to reveal them.

 humans love rituals. this is one of mine.

as i sit in the warmth of the sun, near the ground out of the course of the brisk april buffet,

i thank the dear Lord for these simple tasks, and at the same time revel in, with greatness of gratitude, the peace i am afforded, in such times as these.