holes

Ever since tiny chumley discovered his calling as a little bulldozer, our backyard, and our ability to walk in it safely, have never been the same. Some of Baxter's holes were dug far enough away that they were only a bother to those in hot pursuit of a bunny, while others lent themselves nicely to a giant splooshy surprise for one tiptoeing foot or another while leading a nite nite poop mission on a rainy dark night. I knew we needed to fill all of tiny chumley's holes one day, it was all just a matter of when.

But I must admit I've been slow about addressing chumley's holes, feeling a slight sense of guilt at the thought of undoing all of mister happy go lucky's work.  Every hole he has ever dug, he digs with an obvious sense of pride and satisfaction, always looking up at some point as if he's presenting me a gift, to which I always respond with great admiration and praise.  "A lovely hole my little friend!," I'll often exclaim when he's ready for it. "But, hmmmm,  you missed a spot right here.  Dig it, babydog!" And of course, he does, his little body radiating ever more brightly with happy rays, his half buried dirt covered little noggin twinkling with with lucky charms and clovers floating about.  Fill his holes? How could I hastily slop topsoil on memories like that?

I found the answer right before me in the gardening section at Wally World this past week.  Daffodil bulbs.  The cheerful kind with deep red orange centers and bright yellow surround. Yeah that would do it, I knew almost immediately.


  

Tiny chumley helped us plant all seventy two bulbs yesterday morning, and even the extra twenty seven crocuses I bought for good measure.   And now we wait thru Fall and Winter, waiting for this Spring and every Spring, waiting to spy all the happy yellows and oranges and purples sprinkled about in our backyard, knowing that they are happy reminders that a happy dog once dug a happy hole here. :)