I started my garden today. I've been waiting for this day for years now. When I was a kid and mom would punish us by making us weed, I was the only one who didn't think it was a punishment. Embarrassing maybe, that I was on my hands and knees with a midget rake while the neighbor kids were rollerblading (the 90s), but I certainly didn't hate the work.
Steve and I hit up Lowe's (this is what married homeowners do on the weekends - if it sounds pathetic to you, there are two ways to prevent it: (1) don't get married; (2) don't buy a house). There I bought my flowers and hanging baskets, came home and wanted to immediately get started. I did take a nap first because I had a couple drinks too many, but after that and a walk, I got started.
The dirt here has never been tilled, I'm afraid, so I have a lot of work to do. I struck roots which I have no idea what they connect to, so I ripped them out. After just one mishap with my hanging basket falling to what looked like it's death, I finished. It's amazing how a few flowers can really make a house look like a home. Now I have grandiose plans of ripping out trees and transplanting hedges, but I'm going to take it one step at a time.