The Forty-Five Minute Flower Project

Yesterday I bought a few flowers to plant in the front yard.

It was so hot that I decided to wait until the evening, hoping it would cool down a little. I figured the whole project would take no more than forty-five minutes.

Around seven o’clock I grabbed my gardening tools, picked up the flowers, and stepped off the porch.

“Hi, Lady with the Black Hair!”

It was my two little neighbor boys, probably six and seven years old. They still can’t pronounce my name, so “Lady with the Black Hair” it is.

“What are you doing?” one of them asked.

“I’m going to plant some flowers.”

“Can we help?”

Keeping in mind it was still around ninety-six degrees and I was already sweating before I even touched the dirt, I hesitated.

I really just wanted to get the flowers planted and get back into the air conditioning.

But how do you tell two excited little boys no?

“Sure,” I said with a smile.

Knowing they would almost certainly come home covered in dirt, I told them to go ask their mom first.

Off they ran.

By this point I had been outside about fifteen minutes. I sat on the porch steps waiting for them to come back.

Fifteen more minutes passed.

I figured it was safe to assume the answer had been no, so I opened the bag of potting soil and started filling the planters.

“Hi! Your flowers are beautiful!”

I looked over my shoulder to see a woman walking her dog. We hadn’t met before.

“Thanks!” I called back. “Let’s see if they live.”

She laughed and continued on her walk.

I turned back to my flowers.

About forty minutes had passed since I’d come outside.

Then I heard footsteps behind me.

“Hi. I’m Mary. We just moved in down the road. This is my dog, Mitch.”

“Hi, Mary. I’m Necia. My pup is named Mitch too.”

It was one of those conversations that starts with a dog and somehow wanders into life. I set my gardening tools aside, sat on the porch steps, and we talked for nearly thirty minutes.

After she left, I stood up, stretched my back, and looked at the flowers.

“Okay,” I told myself. “Now I can finally get these planted and go inside.”

“Lady with the Black Hair! Momma said yes!”

I smiled.

Of course she did.

“All right,” I said. “You can help me put the dirt in the pots. Just use your hands.”

The smiles on their faces were worth every extra minute.

Well…

Almost.

They didn’t exactly place the dirt into the pots.

They launched it.

Ten minutes later the pots were finally ready.

“Now this next part you can’t help with because the flowers are delicate.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means they’re fragile.”

“Huh?”

“It means they’re easily broken.”

“Why?”

“Because God made them that way.”

“Why?”

I could already see where this conversation was headed.

“Go ask your mom.”

Off they ran again.

By now I had been outside for an hour and a half.

I was drenched in sweat.

Covered in dirt.

My flowers were beginning to wilt while waiting for me.

TT and Oscar were sitting nearby watching me as if they couldn’t quite understand why planting flowers involved so much talking.

Meanwhile, my own Mitch had realized I was outside and was standing at the window crying because I clearly had forgotten my only real job in life… being available to him twenty-four hours a day.

I finally managed to get four of the nine flowers planted before I heard another voice.

“Planting flowers, huh?”

It was Angie from across the street.

“Trying,” I answered with a laugh.

“The boys bothering you?”

“No,” I said. “I sent them on a religious fact-finding mission. I don’t anticipate they’ll be back anytime soon. Their mom may have a few questions for me, though.”

She laughed, sat down on the porch steps, and kept me company while I finished planting.

When the last flower was finally tucked into its new home, I stepped back to admire them.

“They’re really pretty,” Angie said.

“Thanks.”

Then she looked at me.

“Girl… you need a shower and a cold drink. You are soaking wet.”

“Yep,” I laughed. “It’s a bit warm.”

By the time I finally came inside, took a shower, and sat down to rest, I realized something.

The flowers were beautiful.

But they weren’t the best part of the evening.

Instead of forty-five uninterrupted minutes, I spent over two hours talking with neighbors.

I met someone new.

I made two little boys feel important by letting them help.

I shared another conversation with a neighbor across the street.

None of that had been on my to-do list.

Sometimes we become so focused on finishing the project that we miss the people standing along the way.

Yesterday reminded me that not every interruption is an inconvenience.

Sometimes it’s the best part of the day.

…I also think I sweat off about twenty pounds.

So all in all, I’d call it a pretty good evening.