"Ladybug, ladybug; Fly away home; your house is on fire and your children are gone."
It was a beautiful, warm, sunny morning as I opened the French Doors in my kitchen and spied a ladybug resting on the doorsill. Every spring I buy more ladybugs for my yard. Not only do they eat aphids and other garden killers, but they also symbolize that love goes beyond life. They are always there to let me know that love doesn't go away.
Springtime in the Rockies is an adventure. One morning we wake up to winter with 20 degree temperatures. Then, by afternoon it feels like sprng with temperatures in the 60's. No wonder everyone has the crud. We don't know if we should wear winter togs or summer flip-flops.
My bulbs are peeking their heads up through the mulch. I noticed my irises are also poking their heads upward. Even with the harbinger of spring, I just know I'll have to cover their fragile heads a few times before spring really comes to stay. I'm so ready for spring this year. It's a season of hope and new beginnings. That fact is comforting to me. After the dark, cold days of winter, I need a new beginning. Someone once told me that politics and women's fashions may change, but one can always count on springtime in the Rockies to remain the same year after year.
As I plan my garden for this year I once again realize that my yard doesn't lend itself to growing a large garden. I'll probably grow more in containers that I have placed on my deck and along the south fence. I just hope I can keep the raccoons away this year. The little scamps made off with one of my garden gloves last year.
While planting my garden I am reminded of the Victory Gardens that grew in my hometown, usually along the railroad tracks. Many people planted those gardens during WWII to feed their families and share with others.
Some locales set aside plts of land within the city boundaries and rented them for as little as $5 a year. Anyone willing to spend the time and energy to grow a garden could rent one of those plots and receive water for it a half price. I'm not sure anything could ever replace the Victory Garden. The people who grew them did so with such pride. They felt it was something they could do to support the country's war effort while remaining at home.
I remember having ladybugs in my garden. Dad and I didn't use insecticides. We relied on nature to take care of the bad bugs in our garden. Today my garden doesn't look anything like the one my dad and I grew. Mine is more compact, but the memories it brings to mind are priceless.
My parents were married on March 3, 1928--84 years ago. I wish they were here to see the lady bugs in my garden. They remind me that my parents' love is still with me, just as it was when they taught me the joy of growing a garden and living a joy filled life.
"Ladybug, ladybug: Fly away home.
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