Springtime usually coincides with my annual--no, perennial--urge to agricultivate. One recent day when NS and I returned from a walk, the garden outside our rented apartment had been plastered, Wizard of Oz-style, with a small house (a.k.a. "shed"):
The timing couldn't have been worse.
To be fair, the landlords gave me plenty of advance notice so that I could rescue the tulips and garlic that had trustingly sprouted. And just before the driver of the blue excavator leveled the perennial garden (brown dirt patch to the right of the shed) he asked whether I wanted to dig out the remaining flowers. I hastily stuffed them into makeshift planters to await transplanting at our new house:
On second thought, because I have a new house and garden in which to plant, maybe the timing couldn't have been better.
It looks like my daughter may be catching the gardening bug early...or so I hope: