Watering our little patio garden is the last chore of the day. I think about skipping it and going straight to the bowl of oatmeal and Chocolate Panda tea that’s waiting for me. But one of the blueberry bushes looks like it’s dying and I want to see if the flower on the strawberry plant will turn into a strawberry, so I march myself to the door.
Stepping outside, I’m instantly glad I came. The dark air is soft and cool. The lane, which by day is the site of soccer matches, chalk art, and preschool toy wars, is now quiet, with only the occasional dog-walker passing by.
I can smell the plants now in a way that I don’t during the day. The sweetness of distant flowers and the humid, pete-moss smell of the soil rises around me.
The cool water rushes through the hose and the plants drink in the water. Fatigue falls from my shoulders and I go back inside to my waiting oatmeal, restored.