Late

We ate dinner on the patio.  

The patio that desperately needed cleaning, on cushions that needed a spanking.

(What do you call it when you dust out cushions?... Certainly it's in the spanking family).

As I slowly bit off my bean and cheese burrito I looked sadly at the overgrown shrubs and flowers that spilled out over each other, crowded behind the hidden retaining wall.

Our garden has been neglected. 

Lloyd's been working overtime and I've been... Just working, I guess.

And the garden has suffered considerably. 

But the garden is mostly his domain.

"No one's touching my backyard" he compromised when I asked him if we could hire a gardener for our front lawn. 

(Best investment ever.)

And so when things get unruly out back I usually just have to say... "The garden..." And he knows it's time to put on his gloves and pull out all the tools and contraptions that wait patiently in our garage for such laborious moments. 

It's nearly 7:30 pm on a warm September evening.

After we quietly ate amidst the happy hummingbirds and lizards, on the dusty patio with dusty pink toys, Lloyd decidedly stood and said

"I'm going to change and pull some of these weeds..."

And my heart fluttered just a little.

Though it won't be as glorious as I know it can be in just one evening's work, it makes me quite happy to sit, listening to the hum of a melodic Kodaline album play while staring out the window watching Lloyd and Sayler in the dimming night light... To hear the brushstrokes of the rake pulling against the dry leaves of a blossoming crepe myrtle, to hear the sound of the bin filling with the weeds and overgrowth that has taken over a beloved space of this property.

Little by little... To see the red and white roses stretch their stems, no longer competing for the coveted summer sun over the coming days...

It makes my heart flutter.