Who doesn’t love a spot of gardening? The very fresh sight of dew on flowers (which you grew) and raindrops of leaves (which you probably didn’t grow) gives you a sense of inherent pride and happiness, to see some of your creations come to life. In my situation, this happened when we moved to a new house, with our very own backyard and front yard, a black canvas to paint over and experiment on.

Thus, it began. The adrenaline of being able to independently maintain an individual project, which we couldn’t do when confined to the four walls of an apartment. It felt refreshing, and that fever of excitement soon overtook our family.

That’s not because I had a green thumb, in fact, I happened to over care for every plant in my way, leading to their eventual demise. I’d always been terrified of touching a plant ever since-

However, even I began dragging myself out of bed early to tend to the flowers, to help out my dad in figuring out the irrigation system(WHAT A REDUCTION OF HARD WORK, THANK GOODNESS), and to watch the plants slowly come to life. It required hard work, and some broken ankles(No, I’m just exaggerating. I damaged an undamageable tendon though, it’s quite the achievement), my dad ended up being afflicted by tennis elbow.

It’s quite the change from leading the most sedentary of lifestyles to lugging things up the stairs and uprooting plants.

When that first white flower came out, I think we all felt proud that our efforts produced something as beautiful as that. It was a wonderful feeling, watching the house come to life, our own little touches being added to it. It was slowly transforming into our home.

You can even tell by the amount of paint already splattered on the once pristine walls. Key words, once pristine.

I finally do understand how people love gardening though. It’s the perfect way to spray Em with water and take a free shower when she’s irritating me, or when I just need to tone out every sound and be in peace.

Usually to spray Em. Besides, on hot days, the water feels like heaven.

On cold days?

Chaos ensues, is all I can try to explain.

Gardening truly is an art, whether utilised too annoy younger siblings, or used as a hobby.

More of the former for me, but Em doesn’t have to know that.

Signing off…