It's all in a name

I’ve always wanted a labyrinth in my back yard (haven’t you?) but every time I mentioned it to DH he kind of changed the subject or gave me an “uh-huh I’ll file that under never” look. Now don’t get me wrong. DH is patient and kind and handy and almost perfect -- all that this girl wants in a man. But the labyrinth just wasn’t going to happen. Flash forward a few years and our dear friends approached us with a proposition: they were giving their son a dirt bike, but there wasn’t a good riding space in their subdivision. Could we help? DH revved to the idea. Must be the woeful imbalance of estrogen-to-testosterone in his life, but before you could say “grab your helmet” he was mowing trails into our fields. Our friend, his son, my DH, and our herding-obsessed dog are having a delightful summer biking through the tall grass and occasionally taking a jump over the septic mound. Life is good for the men.

And, I got what I wanted, too. Dubbed the “serenity trail” on non-dirt-biking days, I filled the paths with wind chimes and sun catchers. Now when my friends visit, or when I need to clear my head, I have peaceful paths to follow. Not exactly a labyrinth, but the trail circles around and overlaps, so it works for me. This year I’m transplanting daisies and sprinkling wildflowers around the edges in hopes of adding beauty to serenity. I feel like Miss Rumphius. Won't you come walk with me?