a garden confession

I have something to tell you. There's really no way to soften the blow of what I'm about to say, so I'm just going to spit it out.

I planted my zinnia seeds last weekend.

I planted a lot of zinnia seeds last weekend.

I planted a shocking number of zinnia seeds last weekend.

Can you tell I'm stalling?

Okay, are you ready?

I planted one thousand, one hundred and ten zinnia seeds last weekend.

There, I said it.

1110 zinnias.

Eleven hundred and ten.

Eleventy ten.

I am a sick person.

I truly don't know how it happened. How can there possibly be that many seeds in those little packets? I just kept opening packets and planting seeds. I didn't count the holes in the seed trays as I was planting. I didn't even think to count the holes. About three quarters of the way through my seed packet stash, my guess was coming in around five hundred, and even that was pretty alarming, but when I did the final count (I finally did the seed tray count....seven across and fourteen down...ninety-eight per tray), I about fell off my chair. I'm using the wedding as my justification, but deep down I know I passed ridiculous a good six hundred zinnias ago.

Keep in mind the seed tray holes are very small and the zinnias will have to be transplanted into bigger pots while still in the greenhouse. Then I have to find a home for them all out in the gardens. That means I have to handle 1110 zinnias two more times.

Houston, we have a problem.

I wonder how many days it will take me to plant them all. I wonder if I have room to plant them all. June just may find me setting up a roadside zinnia stand, peddling my extras to passersby.

Actually, I think I'm going to look at it as a challenge. I'm going to find a place for each and every one of those zinnias if it's the last thing I do.

Please. Send. Help.

Truth be told, I'm a bit embarrassed by my zinnia numbers, so in an attempt to distract you from my zinnia gluttony, I'm going to totally switch gears and try to tug at your heart strings just a bit.

Just yesterday, I said my goodbyes to my middle son. He's heading off to a very hot place, very far away.

Then, last night I had a great talk with my oldest. He's getting out of the Coast Guard in three months, planning his wedding and he and his bride-to-be are mapping out the next phase of their lives as a married couple.

They're all grown up. I'm loving my grown up boys.

They are extremely cool people.

But, occasionally I miss these little fellas.

A lot.


I found these photos just a couple days ago. We had just moved into a house that had no grass, and each and every day was spent in their version of little boy heaven. They each got a hose that was turned on with a trickle of water, and they spent hours and hours playing in the mud.

Simple days and good, clean fun.

Then I found this picture and it made me laugh to see that even though it was taken five years later, the expression on my younger son's face is pretty much the same.


Of course I can't leave out my youngest....my baby. My 6'4" baby. Look at those curls and those cute little bunny teeth. Fourteen long years ago.


"Sunrise, sunset.

Sunrise, sunset.

Swiftly, fly the years.

One season following another, laden with happiness and tears."

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Did it work?

Did you forget about the zinnias?