That's better

Monday was 45 and sunny, and the snow vanished. I watched, cackling periodically from my office, knowing, feeling, that Tuesday morning would be warm, and I would dig. 

And I did.

I started out buzzing through some fallen branches from the yard, waiting for the ground to thaw. I put another coat of primer on a glider I just started refinishing. By 11 o'clock, I was ready to go. 

I raked. I fluffed up and turned over the ground. I marveled at all the earthworms, and at that wonderful dark, crumbly top layer-- the broken-down organic matter I've been working in, year after year-- proof that I'm moving in the right direction. Proof that I'm gaining. I set up trellising. I planted peas.
I cracked open the cold frame to find my August planting of spinach-- hello there!-- regrowing itself after being nearly, but not quite killed, by the winter cold. Like, whoa. Fresh spinach in April? I will be repeating that trick. I forked two dozen of the biggest ones out and plunked them down in one of the salad beds in the brick area. Then I moved the cold frame to its designated spot (according to Garden Plan 2014) and planted it in lettuce. 

What is it about neatly spaced thriving green things that stirs my soul? 

It's true I'm not really rabid for spring this year-- or rather, I'm not rabid for the endless work I know spring brings with it-- but damnit, it's irresistible all the same. Especially after a long winter without the tough, beautiful, satisfying work of growing things. It's so easy for me to forget that, simply, I'm a different person when I can spend part of my day-- and myself-- in the garden every day. A happier person. 
Today it is also going to be warm and partly sunny, and right now I'm playing that same waiting game-- is it thawed yet? And later I will rake and turn and plant more things. Ahhh. Life is good.
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