Cold morning. I woke a little early to quiet darkness, happy to maybe catch a glimpse of the full moon, but thinking mostly about primroses. I dress and head to the trailhead.

Yesterday I planted strawberries in the flower beds, thinking they’d make a good ground cover. My Traveling Partner surprised me by having a decidedly strong negative opinion on that idea. He’d put a lot of work into the lawn, and he was worried about the strawberries spreading into the lawn and taking over. (Seems less than likely to me… but my partner knows plants.) Although I’m willing to watch for that and take preventative measures, the truth is, I’m also somewhat lazy, and prone to letting shit fall behind if I lack sufficient energy for the task. I see how under such circumstances, strawberries could become…weeds.

Rather than cause my beloved lasting stress, I propose replanting those strawberries in their own raised bed on the west side of the house, instead. He likes that idea much more. I’ll do that later today. The Anxious Adventurer helps out by assembling an inexpensive raised bed for that purpose from a kit I purchased at the garden store. (I could have done that, true enough, but I’m notorious for doing a pretty half-assed “good enough” job on such things, and both my Traveling Partner and his son like to see things built well.) I’m grateful for the help.

Those bare expanses of border around and between the blueberries? I decide I’ll fill those in with primroses, which are doing very well at the other end of the bed and needing to be divided as it is. Primroses, though? Primroses?

The primroses are a story of their own, I suppose. I never had “a thing” for them before I moved into this house. They’ve grown on me as they grow in my garden. They were just a couple of garden store primroses added to the front flower bed by the previous owner for last minute “curb appeal” when the house was put on the market. There they were. Blooming. lol Just some random flowers, added to the edge of the bed, visible each time I left the house. Unimpressively commonplace, I used to think. Over five years those three original primroses have become large beautiful clumps, well-established and thriving, and blooming like crazy from the earliest Spring days well past the end of summer. They do so well, and they’ve got such fun bold colors, I’ve added a couple more, on some whim, each Spring. Those are spreading too. Don’t know why I thought strawberries were a necessary addition – just divide the damned primroses! Welcome them and take them seriously!

So, now I have what feels like a proper plan in mind and I’m impatient to proceed. My Traveling Partner’s lawn is under no threat from the primroses, the strawberries will do well in a raised bed protected from slugs, and I get flowers and strawberries. Win.

I watch the moon set over the marsh, and add a reminder to read up on primroses. I really don’t know much about them. I guess knowing more makes sense. They’re pretty. Do they have history? Where are they native? Are there wild varieties? I know so much about roses. I know so little about primroses. Are there other colors and shapes that might look good in my garden, too? What else is there to know? I smile to myself. Such a simple thing to give me so much joy.

Where are you finding simple joy? What do you do to cultivate that in your life?

A mist has developed on the marsh, clinging to the ground, thick in low places. It’s a cold morning. I look down the trail. The full moon attracted quite a few early risers to the trail this morning. I lace up my boots and grab my cane. The clock is ticking and it’s time to walk the path I’ve chosen. Another day, another beginning.