THE ORDINARY PROJECT
Tyler's Garden Patrol
“A Morning in the Garden”
I arrived after the tomatoes.
That seemed like poor planning.
Fortunately, I was here now.
Every proper garden needs someone to keep an eye on things.
Every morning, before anyone else is properly awake, I begin my patrol.
Well... almost everyone.
The littlest human wakes up ready for the day. The sun is barely up, the rest of us are still blinking at the morning, and SHE is already racing around on her little red tricycle.
This morning, she was headed toward the tomatoes.
So I climbed into the back.
It seemed like a great idea.
After all, the tomatoes were all the way over there.
I rode until we were almost to them, then hopped out.
A ride is a fine way to begin patrol.
But you can't check tomatoes from a tricycle.
The oldest little human knows this too.
She checks each little green tomato, waiting for one to turn red.
I check her.
The green ones get to stay.
The red ones get eaten.
There are not very many red ones.
This is what a Garden Inspector does.
I check the garden.
I check the little humans.
I even check on Lee.
It is a very important job.
They need a lot of checking.
Once the tomatoes are checked, I move on to the flowers.
The bees like these flowers very much.
But she seems very proud of herself when she does.
I allow it.
Looking after humans sometimes means letting them think they're helping.
The smaller little human prefers to carry me. EVERYWHERE.
I don't always need carrying.
But she seems very proud of herself when she does.
I allow it.
Looking after humans sometimes means letting them think they're helping.
The taller little human spends a great deal of time making string behave.
She calls it crocheting.
The string clearly disagrees.
Whenever it escapes, I catch it for her.
She laughs every time.
I assume she's saying thank you.
Lee doesn't patrol much anymore.
He prefers the shade.
He says gardens are quieter when you learn to listen instead of chase.
I'm still considering his advice.
There are, after all, butterflies.
Perhaps that is because balloons understand children better than adults do.
Adults are forever asking what things are for.
Children are much more interested in discovering what they might become.
Patrol requires focus.
Every leaf deserves inspecting.
Every tomato deserves counting.
Every butterfly deserves at least one determined chase.
I had nearly completed my morning rounds...
...when the littlest human found me.
She has never understood that Garden Inspectors are extremely busy.
Before I could explain, I was suddenly...
airborne.
My ears made their feelings quite clear.
The littlest human remained wonderfully unconcerned.
Apparently important meetings can wait when there are sisters to chase.
So we ran.
Well...
She ran.
I supervised.
Mostly upside down.
It was, I admit, a very unusual way to patrol.
A Few Things I Remember
Along the Way
The balloon squeaked every time the wind caught it.
He spent almost as much time studying it as he did chasing it.
The strawberries stained exactly one clean white shirt.
No one minded.
The balloon lasted less than an hour. Childhood, thankfully, lingers a little longer.
I hope it still visits from time to time.
YOUR TURN
Every Story Begins Somewhere.
This one began with a little red balloon.
The next might begin with rain boots, pancakes, a favorite stuffed animal, an old pickup truck, or the way your daughter insists on wearing fairy wings to the grocery store.
It doesn't have to be extraordinary.
Because the ordinary was never ordinary.
Explore this story → Begin Your Story →CONTINUE READING
Turn The Page
Every ordinary day holds another story.
