It is almost 100 degrees.  My sweat actually drops into the soil I am planting.   

I move landscape timbers, build trellises, water, plant seeds and seedlings.  I weed and re-arrange and haul and feed.  I pot and dig and sweep and fight off mosquitoes, spiders. I instigate a battle against wasps. 

My reward?  I tuck a spring of  lilac into my hair behind my ear and the sweet scent, released by the emmanating heat of garden labor from my body, surrounds me.  Everything aches, {ooohh…worn out}, but it’s a good kind of tired.