The waiting is as good as, sometimes even better than, the doing.
This has been a week full of waiting-- sometimes pensively-- for the right time. The right time, the right weather, the right materials. It has been good. April will teach you patience, even when you think you've already learned patience, she will remind you again that you have a long way to go.
Ithaca got five inches of snow this week. I was there yesterday, and it took me several long minutes of staring at the odd crumbly white stuff on the side of the road before it registered. My farmer friends were well-prepared, though they're pretty much writing off any possibility of a plum harvest this year...
I brought home four tomato transplants from aforementioned farmer friends, a pair of thrifted jeans that fits like bark on a tree, and a reel mower from a different friend, for which I traded a jar of homemade dill pickles.
All these things are waiting.
My parents came Wednesday night for a brief dinner, and to walk around and see the progress being made. They brought comfrey roots, and wine, and a spading fork, and a scythe, and these things are waiting, too, alongside the hay I bought to use for garden mulch.
I am eager for the right time and the right weather, but not too eager. There is something cozy and satisfying, for sure, about this waiting business.