Yesterday I bought some flowers to put into pots around the yard and for the front porch steps. Today my plan was to get them all potted.


I gathered up my gardening gloves, trusty trowel, soil, and pots and prepared to dig right in. Then I saw this:

Oh, dear. Slight snag given that I don’t ‘do’ power tools. I am not at all tool-inclined. In fact, I’m a bit dangerous in that department. My hands get clammy just thinking about it.

Caution: stand well back

Stupid, I know, and right now I can see my friend Linda out there laughing away at my trepidation over picking up a drill to make a few holes. When Rick called I told him of my dilemma. Jeez, Lynne,  just drill the hole. You can do it, he said. Could I? If he had confidence in me, well ... sure, why not. I’ll give it a go. What’s the worst thing that could happen? I drill right through my foot? Best not to think of what could go wrong.

I picked up the big orange monster and chose a drill bit. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to change out the bits, but it was simple. Look out pots, here I come!!!

In a matter of seconds the first hole was done. Huh, is that all there is to it? What was I so afraid of? Now I felt really stupid for having made such a big deal over it. I drilled the other three holes and felt disappointed that there weren’t more. I can see more power tools in my future. Just don’t get too close when I’m wielding one…

As I potted the geraniums and was taking out the plant tags, I noticed that even though they all appeared to be the same color of red, one of them was different. Take a look:

How very apropos. Just like me; another Rocky Mountain transplant. I hope this little geranium’s roots take hold and it flourishes in its new home; just like I have done over the past year.