At least this much is done

Today, I planted the small bed by the front door. It has become a ritual for Brian and me to stroll the aisles of a local nursery, with no preconceived notion of what we want this year, and simply pick whichever annuals speak to us.

Because the bed was only planted six hours ago, it's understandably looking a little bare. But with time, sun, and a bit of luck, it's going to fill in quite nicely. The reason I wanted to talk about this small gardening moment centers around Brian.

As a scrapbooker, I have a pretty good grasp on colour and how different hues can work together. Still, in the front bed (other than the year I planted vegetables!), I have always played it safe, always chosen traditional colour schemes. One year it was two different shades of purple, last year it was red and white, blah blah blah, you get the picture.

This morning, after Brian and I had quickly perused the entire selection, he went back to the pretty blue lobelias. "I want this, Mummy. And", quickly striding two aisles over, he pointed to the shocking orange marigolds, "I want this. And maybe something white."

Blue. Orange. A splash of white.

Why does he instinctively see what I must study? Loving this kid, can't believe he's actually mine.