spring done sprung

it is that time of year, my friends. we've changed our clocks, totally disrupting what little bedtime routine my children actually subscribed to. daffodils have bravely pushed aside the soil to reveal their yellow tea-cup faces. my kitchen is full of earthboxes sporting rows of tiny kale seedlings. birds are making their presence known a little earlier every morning. my front door entry is a tangle of muddy boots, jackets discarded halfway through the day, and that one mitten we never did find the match to. this combination of events can only mean one thing...spring is finally (FINALLY) here.

spring trickles in slowly here at mudlfower. it starts in january when seed catalogs first start arriving in the mail. these are more valuable to eric than any smutty magazine would ever be. and he admires them with them same focus and awe, I assure you. these catalogs quickly become dog-earred and worn with items circled and starred as it if was the JCPenney's toy catalog at christmastime (remember those days?). the next sign is the restlessness. this restlessness is different from the every day variety that often seizes us. this particular pacing involves eric staring out the window and sighing a lot. it is hard to keep a good gardener down through the dead of winter. and really, there is just no point in trying. every year eric says there is no use in starting seeds any earlier than march 15 or so. and every year he pulls out his seed trays and brings in buckets of compost about the middle of february to start seeds anyway. by that time we are all checking the calendar (and the thermometer) the way folks might check their watches impatiently while waiting for an overdue train. and more sighing. lots and lots of sighing.

as it warms up, there is so very much to do. the compost has to be switched over so the newly seasoned soil can be used to prepare beds. there are new beds to create and old beds to amend. the hens end their season of free ranging and are once more confined in their fence. we dig up the last of the potatoes, rake up the last of the leaves. we spread grass where the chickens scratched it all away. but mostly, even with all these chores and tasks to distract us, we wait. we wait for the warm, we wait for the green. we point out little glimpses to each other every day: short sleeves on our afternoon walk, a crocus we'd forgotten we'd planted, the thermostat creeping up near 70 degrees inside, buds on the berry bushes and fruit trees. eric writes it all down, taking careful notes on the appearance of bird and buds, the temperatures and the rainfall, the tasks he completes and the tasks he has left to do....

you can continue reading this fabulous post at susan gabriel's blog where I am guest posting today. be sure to join the conversation on the comments board! thanks for being such dedicated readers that you are willing to follow me all around the internet. seriously, I heart you hard. now go read!