Today I was sewing wedding invitations. (I was only sewing the binding, the cover to the vellum–oh, never mind.) The eighth one defied me until my fifth try, when I discovered that I’d messed up anyhow and it was irreparable, and I threw it into the hall and decided to go outside.

On Friday, I had gone to Lowe’s for dirt and pots, and while there I had seen fruit trees, including winesap apples. Now, my fiance (Eric) and his mother both love winesaps. So I mentioned it when I got home. He, in turn, was hesitant to get an apple tree when we’re planning on moving in two years. “But maybe Mom would like one,” he said. “Since she’s probably going to stay in her house until she dies.” So he called her up, and–after she objected that she didn’t have room for two trees and we assured her that there were enough apple trees in the neighborhood to pollinate hers–we live in the same neighborhood so we know it’s true–she requested that we purchase one for her. So we went back to Lowe’s Saturday. We picked out a nice one. Then I noticed they had nectarine trees. “Do you want a nectarine tree?” Eric said. I said, reluctantly, “No. You don’t really like them.” He said, “You know, those peach trees are flowering, so they might get fruit this year.” So we bought a Red Haven peach, and when my invitation fury overcame me I went out to plant it.

We already have a pear tree in the yard (also an Asian pear in the garden), and we agreed that if we planted the peach tree somewhat near it and created an island in the backyard, there would still be room for kids (the next owners’, presumably) to run around but less grass for Eric to mow. “In fact, you could expand your garden to run the entire length of the backyard, behind it,” Eric suggested. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

So I dug a neat hole where we agreed to put the tree, and spent a few minutes extracting dirt and worms from the grass to replace over its roots. For some reason, it makes me particularly happy to see the earthworms everywhere in my ground. For some reason I think it’s sterile and dead. I saw the weeds last summer; why would I think that?

The island itself is something I’ll be working on in the next several weeks, to be finished before the wedding (when everyone comes to see the new house). Also the flower beds, which I finished raking out–I started it last night and felt like Mary Lennox, clearing space around green spears poking out of the earth. And I planted peas and carrots, and spread some manure and humus. The garden is mostly bare, with some dead grass here and there (and a little alive under the Asian pear), and I’m going to be slowly transforming it into a vegetable garden–in pieces, as things need planting, since I’m not virtuous enough to spend a week just plain digging. But for a morning’s break, it’ll do.

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