It's been six months since Geordie died, and I am still looking for a happy day. Have decided to manufacture happiness.
I'm happy that I contracted with another gardening group to clear the overgrown weeds growing where the old pond was.
I'm happy that I let a burdock plant grow so I could see what it was like in maturity.
I'm happy that there are two big clumps of goldenrod in the old pond area. They are lovely and showy, 6-foot high specimens as long as you remember not to notice the plants they have overtaken.
I'm happy that the worker didn't do a perfect job weed-whacking the path. Now I have a small, manageable areas to whipper-snip instead of one large one.
I'm happy that I sprained my hip. Now I have a good excuse for not doing much for days and days.
I'm happy that I put the pictures of Mike on the hall wall. Now I can see him and talk to him as I pass going from room to room.
I'm happy that I'm learning not to care who judges me. It's nice being a solitary person.
There are so many things to be happy about that I can almost give up being sad.
