I was sincerely hoping that by this time of year I would have several posts up about the transformation of brown, dead, winter-laden grass transitioning into wonderful blades of summertime glory. I was hoping that I would have several sets of Flickr pics showing our gardens decorated with little sprouts as if the dirt were little chocolate cupcakes adorned with tasty sprinkles. But alas, I cannot.
Winter hit hard this year and it isn’t done yet from what I hear. In fact, the weather channel is talking of snow flurries as late as tomorrow afternoon. Now I don’t believe in wives tales, per se, or even signs of spring but didn’t that groundhog see his shadow or something halfway constructive?
This you must know though. I am hard headed. When I awoke Saturday morning to no ice in the chicken waterer and no crunch under my feet as I navigated my way out to the yard I promised the day would not disappear in vain. I would make something of it yet.
Two days prior Pan and I had purchased some onion bulbs at the feed and seed in a mad attempt at making spring come. We had no plans other than to have them ready at the first peak of 50 degree weather. I knew what bed they would find a home in, and I even had some compost and soil ready to be laid. So when that mercury jumped to 53, I must have looked like a pasty college student headed to the waves of Panama City, Florida, on Spring Break. NOTHING could slow me down.
By afternoon we had turned the compost and laid it in. We had added some sprinklings of chicken manure for good measure. We had pressed the sweet onion bulbs into their earthen home. We gently watered the entire plot and carefully covered it all with hearty straw. What a great feeling! Spring had sprung if only for 2 or 3 hours.
As the afternoon sun fell from overhead and the wind started to bring in the night air we sat on the porch looking out at our first bed of the season. What a sight! I gathered up our tools and headed to the barn to put everything away. I took one last look though – anticipating an early summer harvest – and said under my breath, “Take that Phil! Take that!”