I love to weed. I love the peacefulness of it. The utter monotony of pulling weed after weed and depositing them in bags to be dumped into the recycling bin later (by my stronger husband or son) is bliss to me. Just calling out to anyone in earshot, “I’m going to weed!” is all it takes to guarantee that I will have time alone…for as long as I like. Time alone to think about what else I need to do, what to make for dinner, how to deal with life in general. Mostly though, I dream about what my yard will look like…someday. Gardening is a never ending cycle. Work the soil, weed, water, move plants, add plants, remove plants, weed, plant, weed, water some more. We have 1/2 acre and it is mostly beautifully landscaped–the previous owners saw to that–yet, I need to make it mine. So, I plan as I weed and I keep dreaming. Someday, I will be in the perfect garden. That is how I picture heaven; a beautiful garden with a big yellow farmhouse with a wrap-around porch sitting in the middle. A huge shade tree in the front with a swing dangling from a high limb, beckoning me to sit and sway to and fro. Where I got this vision of Heaven I do not know…but I do know that it will be perfect, garden or no garden, with or without the farmhouse and swing. I will be singing praises to the Lord of Lords. Now that is perfection! Ah, the peacefulness of weeding!