Tuesday, April 26, 2011


Even though it's still too wet to get planting in the garden, spring is slowly creeping in. I walk around the yard greeting the returning flowers, the budding trees, hearing the birds, the spring peepers. Over the winter I forget the sounds, the smells, the beauty of it all.

Here is a lovely poem by Timothy J. Nolan

Long Winter

So much I've forgotten
the grass
the birds
the close insects
the shoot- the drip-
the spray of the sprinkler
freckles- strawberries
the heat of the Sun
the impossible
the flush of your face
so much
the high noon
the high grass
the patio ice cubes
the barbeque
the buzz of them-
the insects
the weeds-the dear
weeds-that grow
like alien life forms-
all Dr. Suessy and odd-
here we go again--
we are turning around
again-this will all
happen over again
and again- it will

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Waiting On Spring

Perhaps we keep a record of the day's weather to divine some sort of a pattern over the years, some sort of trend to fill in the blanks, to let us know what's coming next. But really, there is none. One year April is warm and sunny following a bitterly cold winter, sometimes it's snowy after a winter with no real snow. This year's April is cold, rainy and raw after having many huge snow storms, but not terribly cold.

The shoveling never ended this past winter

Much as we'd like to find one, there never seems to be a rule we can hold on to. So perhaps we keep a record of the days and years to remember the day's in Aprils past when it was 70ยบ, and the day's, like this year when it's in the 40's. No matter. The grass, and the daffodils, and the buds on the lilacs tells me that it will be spring.

Naturally, the garden isn't dry enough to plant in, however yesterday, during a rare semi sunny (but cold) day, I was able to till an area for the first 1,500 lettuce plants. Although I'll have to re-till after it dries out from today's cold rain, just getting in the dirt was a hopeful sign. I am so ready. The phrase chomping at the bit comes to mind. I am that horse, waiting to get to work. To ready the soil, to plant, and to harvest.