It's spring; things are happening in the garden.

 My back fence has been leaning for years. Ex propped it up with a 2 x 4 which kept it from falling onto a child. Last week I removed the boys' old play structure and the fence, it went. It looked like this:

I did what any grown woman would do; I called my dad. Now it looks like this:

My father is not a construction guy; he's a doctor guy. Mostly he's a do-it-yourselfer. When ex was here, my father expected ex to participate or at the very least be grateful for the help. It wasn't like that. Ex would rather hemorrhage his last dime than pick up a hammer. This project went so well without him. I helped. My brother helped. The neighbor pitched in money. I also got these out of the deal:

Voila!! A raised bed for vegetables! I've wanted one for years, maybe my whole life. After bed and before fence fixing, my baby mentioned wanting a tree house and 29 hours later we had this:

(It was my idea to use the trimmed branches for railings. I know--genius.)

Spring has been especially meaningful to me this year coming out of a hellish fall and winter. A winter garden is depressing and I'm just so pleased to see mine bursting into life now. I forgot what was there. All this work I've put into it in the past which lay dormant for months is showing now. It feels like a gift but it's not; it's a reward for my efforts. Behold the lilac bush:

I have waited and watched this bush do nothing for four years and this is the year it has chosen to bloom. Coincidence? Maybe.

At any rate, the whole garden is a good metaphor for the work I've been doing in my life. I don't see immediate results. Sometimes it takes years for the payoffs but I must keep laying the groundwork, fertilizing, watering, and weeding and sometime down the road the rewards, however small, may appear.