In summer, the gin lives in the fridge

A perfect day.

Our little town hosts a balloonfest every year. Yesterday it was cancelled due to weather, but today the weather was ideal and up they went. More than 60 balloons every year go up, starting at about 7am or so. We were up long before the first balloon went up today…so it’s been a loooong day.

At, ohhhh, 9:30 or so we started.

Gardening Day.

Oh, this wasn’t gardening. This was Gardening, with a big, honkin’ capital G. Hardcore Gardening. Any more intense and it would be called Farming.

In went the tomato plants.

In went the snap peas, the snow peas, and the broccoli.

In went the basil, the green onions, the shallots, and a terra cotta pot prepped for mint.

(no picture, ’cause A didn’t get a picture)

I built a retaining wall around the new stone under the back gate. I also planted creeping thyme in between the rocks. No picture, ’cause A figured if we weren’t eating it, it didn’t count.

I planted more creeping thyme around one of the front trees and will do the other two this week once I get more creeping thyme.

I moved rock. Lots and lots and oh holy hell, lots of rock.

I carried dirt. Lots and lots and oh holy hell, lots of dirt.

Tom replaced our back screen door. And taught the kids some new words. Come to think of it, I may have learned some new words this morning.

The lawn was mowed and fertilized. The sprinklers were turned on.

I planted flowers in the pots in front.

And, the reason why I’m so sore and will be cursing to the highest heavens tomorrow, I removed dandelion plants by hand.

An hour and a half of squatting and digging and cursing and swearing that if I see a kid blowing dandelion fluff, I was going to channel my inner curmudgeon and have a  “get off my lawn, you damned kids!” losemyshitapalooza.

Note to self: lay off the crap, the cellulite is less than attractive.

What was at the end of this wonderful, perfect day?

A shower. An ice-cold, wave-the-tonic-over-the-gin, gin and tonic. And a steak with red wine and a perfect baked potato. And the boys in the bed early.

Now that’s a perfect summer Sunday.