Is there anything more wonderful than sunshine dappling a frosty hill, a squirrel climbing up a bare branch, the shadow of a bird, a third cup of hot tea, children singing as they play their own games?
Martin ordered sugarsnap and snow pea seeds last night--St. Patty's Day is the magic pea-planting deadline, and though yesterday I would have looked at you incredulously if you'd mentioned the garden, today I can feel the hoe and rake quaking with excitement. . .almost, almost time for us to sink into the soft spring earth again, to feel earthworms about our tines. Our friend Mike has a great big pile of sh--- for us to load into the back of our pick up and spread over our winter-parched beds, and Martin, bright faced, (excitement comes easy at Wazoo Farm) announced this morning that there's a new compost pile ready for all the scraps from last year's garden. I leave the garden full of seeds and twigs and all last year's growth for the birds and cats--the birds love stripping the dried flower heads and the garden cats love to have a bit of a jungle to paw through--little cat prints in the snow make me feel happy, as if the garden is still serving a happy purpose even in the wintertime.
Bea's plastered the red end of a plastic stethoscope to my shoulder and is listening very carefully. I hope she finds a pulse in such an unlikely place. I want to be alive for a very long time.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
