In Early Spring

This time of year, when it is cool in the early evening, just under 70, the springtime is a special delight. After work it is my job to set up the sprinklers for the next round of watering. I take off my work clothes and slip on some old khaki pants and my rubber-soled moccasins and stroll out into the backyard.

The grass I have worked so hard to cultivate is lush and green, and as I walk down back to move the sprinkler, I catch the wonderful aroma of the Star Jasmine. Near the back of the garden, tall spikes of foxglove rise like minarets in the rays of the setting sun. The Japanese anemonae are taking over the area where white daffodils bloomed and fell. I will try to dig them out before they take over again.

I enjoy the handiwork of our gardener, who goes by the name NYC Weasel, who has labored for many years planting thousands of perennials and annuals in the garden.

I hook up a new sprinkler - the old one finally broke after many faithful years of spraying the yard - and watch its plume of water droplets shine in the sunlight as it whirls around furiously, showing off what it can do before I set the timer for tomorrow morning.

The cool evening air is delicious - just the right temperature, so refreshing, and it blows against my face as I turn to walk back into the house. I know the summer heat will come soon, and the lush grass will fade, and the brown patch will discolor it in spite of the treatments. But for now, this moment, life is good and early spring is magical.