A couple weekends ago I was lucky enough to spend Sunday in Fremont, wandering the Sunday market and shops.  Someone was having a garage sale of sorts and we'd only crossed the street before having our arms so full we had to turn around and drop it all off before going any further.  He was selling small dark wood shelves for $1 each.  They have these metal pieces on the back that I'm assuming will be easy to find a mounting for the wall, but I'm not actually sure.  But last night, in my dream, I found them quite easily at Home Depot. 

I'm wondering just how odd it is that A.) I dream about Home Depot, and wall mountings and flowers and antique colored stones.  and B.) Home Depot makes me think of my mom more than almost any other place.  I ran in last weekend in search of one specific item I was sure I could find there, and as I turned down all the Can I help you's and puzzled looks and marched right to where I needed, I suddenly felt so close to Mumsy.  It's not just the flower section either.  Over the years, I've been dragged through those darn lighting aisles for hours.  When I decided to do some minor updates to my bathroom, my mom and I picked out the shower knobs, we bought the lumber and paint there, we've bought carpet, linoleum, patio stuff, more lumber, and more lumber, caulking, sandpaper, pipes and all sorts of products for the yard, the house, and who knows what else.  I've hated it at times and loved it at others, but regardless I don't know any girls that have ever been drug through more garden, home repair stores and lumber yards than my sisters and me by our dear mom. 

This isn't complaining. This is praising, if you've missed it.  While I know the danger I stand in, projects amassing down my hallway, I love that my mom raised us this way.  I love that I fully believe, "I can make that."  And that I know what aisle the supplies are in.... or at least, what number to call to find out what supplies I'll need and what aisle they are in. ;)

I came home last weekend with gardening gloves.  When I showed them to my mom she responded, "What are those for?"  "They're gardening gloves, mom." "I know. But what are you going to do with them?"  "Garden."  "Where?"  "I was thinking, here?"  She wasn't trying to be rude.  My mom doesn't use gloves.  She likes her hands in the dirt.  It's good for your nails, she says.  She's also yet to see me not give up on gardening upon the first spider spotted.  We will see.  :/  I really love having a garden, and I feel my mom is probably one of the greatest gardeners around - so why would I possibly not be learning the trade from her?  Right? 

I was walking down the street last week on a sunny day, naming to myself each flower as I passed it.  Wondering at some.  This turned into an alphabet game of sorts: Azaleas, Bachelor's Buttons, Crocuses, Dahlias, etc.  I know plenty of flowers and can name them on sight, thanks to years of looking at an amazing garden, and carrying way to many plants through the Eagle parking lot.  I've watered the gardens for years, I know how many seconds to count to for rose bushes, and hedges.  I've mowed the lawn hundreds of times.  But actual gardening?  I haven't done that since I was probably 10. 

Oh Lord, keep the spiders at bay. :/