Mud
I'm trying to find some hope in the endless rain and snow, in the standing water in the fields, in the topsoil crusted in the soles of the boots, and the mud pit where the driveway used to be. The best I can come up with is the reflect that life came forth from the primordial ooze, and some how, by the end of this post, I will have us both convinced that these mudfields will give rise to single celled organism, a fish floundering up out of the sea, an Eden. I will take your mind of the impending doom being predicted by weather.com. You will no longer dread that nostril full of frozen air when you first step outside. Grey skies will not effect your mood. You will not be bothered by the simultaneous references to both evolution and Genesis in the second sentence.
I will start - and bear with me here - by pointing out that our first farmer's market date is less than two months away. As you see, we are no longer feeling stuck in the middle of winter, but are consumed by stress, are convinced we will have nothing ready for market, and are wishing we could go back in time a few weeks. Early January would be nice. I could get some lettuce started, and could clean up the greenhouse. I now dread the sight of the first robin.
Furthermore, there are not nearly enough plastic pots. I have enough to start a few things, but I need to step up a few hundred rosemary and a few hundred lavender, dozens of thymes and oreganos, and dozens each of various native perennial pollinator friendly homeopathic flowers. Should it get too warm and the plants start to outgrow their present containers, and should this happen before I buy a few cases of new pots, and nevermind that I should have done that a month ago, then we start to welcome a thick layer of ice on the windshield in he morning.
Frozen pipes don't seem nearly as bad as burst irrigation lines. Frozen ground is preferable to frost burnt basil leaves. An evening spent huddled in the house wrapped in three blankets is relaxing compared to checking greenhouse temperatures at 3 AM. The coming of spring only means the coming of greenhouse season, and that makes a lingering winter so very, very wonderful.
Doesn't it?
I will start - and bear with me here - by pointing out that our first farmer's market date is less than two months away. As you see, we are no longer feeling stuck in the middle of winter, but are consumed by stress, are convinced we will have nothing ready for market, and are wishing we could go back in time a few weeks. Early January would be nice. I could get some lettuce started, and could clean up the greenhouse. I now dread the sight of the first robin.
Furthermore, there are not nearly enough plastic pots. I have enough to start a few things, but I need to step up a few hundred rosemary and a few hundred lavender, dozens of thymes and oreganos, and dozens each of various native perennial pollinator friendly homeopathic flowers. Should it get too warm and the plants start to outgrow their present containers, and should this happen before I buy a few cases of new pots, and nevermind that I should have done that a month ago, then we start to welcome a thick layer of ice on the windshield in he morning.
Frozen pipes don't seem nearly as bad as burst irrigation lines. Frozen ground is preferable to frost burnt basil leaves. An evening spent huddled in the house wrapped in three blankets is relaxing compared to checking greenhouse temperatures at 3 AM. The coming of spring only means the coming of greenhouse season, and that makes a lingering winter so very, very wonderful.
Doesn't it?
1 Comments:
At February 18, 2014 7:31 PM,
Dana said…
You had me at "mud!" Seriously. When I saw the word "mud" I started cracking up. Because I think I get it. I just walked the half mile from the Mechos barn driveway to my home. Again. There was a lot of mud involved. A lot. And a lot of ice. A lot. And yet the spring, with its anticipation and anxieties, is pending. Looming even. Today rocked. But I do not feel necessarily restored by the winter. Someone in the store today said, "You've lost a lot of weight in your face!" M reply was instant and truthful: "It's been a hard winter." Flu, sub zero, frozen pipes, ice, mud, greenhouse collapse (don't worry, I got it back up), and such. But I have loved it none the less. How are the plastics?
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