Here's hoping that my black thumb has gotten slightly more green

Our house is about 10 years old, and judging from the state of the (tiny but crazy overgrown) yard, nobody's gardened since it was originally built. So last week I changed into John's basketball shorts and t-shirt and my Hunter boots (one of many reasons that this isn't a fashion blog) and we got to work. I semi-jokingly suggested we just borrow a chainsaw and hack everything down, but John is occasionally more patient than I am and he used clippers to trim all the bushes and then dug out the ones that couldn't be saved while I sat and pulled 7000+ weeds.

There's something comforting in planning any type of future with someone, even if it's I’ll plant the snowball bush here, it’s going to get so tall or Won’t it be beautiful when the vinca fills in around this tree? or Let’s string lights on the porch so we can sit out here at night. We kept going until the sun was almost gone and it was cool and smelled like flowers thanks to the massive tree blooming in front of the house and there was very little yelling at the dog to stay close and very little grumbling from me about how uncomfortable it is to bend over right now. In other words, heaven.

You can't see any dandelions, right?? Neither can I. Also, it looks like someone went crazy with the confetti but really the tree just dropped a million petals over the weekend.

{Hello there baby!}

Every Thursday we drive up to the lake and our favorite weekly food truck round up. We order whatever catches our eye (last week it was Korean barbecue in a cup for me, the week before it was gourmet baked potatoes) and then go home and dig in seated on our front porch with our string lights on and discuss all the important things in life, namely the benefits of having a propane-fueled fire pit (s'mores every night!) and the necessity of an old-fashioned porch swing suspended from the ceiling. Summer isn't here yet but it's so close and I have giant peach foxglove in my garden and that deserves to be celebrated.

PS let's all pause and give a little cheer for husbands who have no strong feelings about flowers but spend their evenings planting flowers to keep their wives happy (and even suggest we buy a rose bush to ensure that there are often blooms in jars on the kitchen table).

PPS not only does baby have a tentative name [which we aren't sharing here just in case I change my mind--it's been known to happen--or in case he comes out and doesn't look like said name], but last week we picked up his crib. We have a CRIB. So weird. John is so excited to paint it and that just really makes my heart go pitter-patter.