Thursday, February 17

When "real" spring comes...

Today it was in the low 50's here for a little while and when I headed out to take care of the chickens, it was raining. Raining pretty good, and if the temperature was where it should be at this time of year, we would have had a nice little snowstorm on our hands.

Fortunately, I was able to enjoy the semi-warm day, but I didn't let it get to me. I wanted to get that spring fever, but I knew better. It's February.

The chickens enjoyed the break and even dared to venture out of the coop for a few tentative footfalls on what was a quickly diminishing blanket of snow. I am happy for the thaw so that the layers of ice that have accumulated on my driveway will ease to exist, and that I can finally see the compost bin again. There is something about it that depresses me a little though. Mostly when "real" spring comes and what is left of the snow is dark and dirty with remnants of road salt and sand. Pieces of garbage that had been thrown out a car window or windblown out of a recycling bin are revealed from under the snow blanket and it looks even more like pollution in it's faded and mis-shapen state. Then the snow melts for good and all that is left is brown, dank, smashed grass and mud and decomposing leaves left over from last fall. I know that green grass will grow shortly and that the crocuses will be popping up any day, but everything looks so dreary from the ravages of winter.

I did get my garden plan together today, slightly getting spring fever for just a bit. I think I have room for everything even after widening the dividing rows from what they were last year. This will allow more space for the tiller to mulch the weeds in the walking spaces. I have also decided to give up on onions this season. I don't really have good luck with them, we don't eat a lot of them and I can get perfectly good ones at the local farmers market when a recipe calls for one. This year is all about necessity over what I think I should be growing to be considered a gardener/farmer/homesteader.

The seed of spring has been planted in my head, but there is a terribly long germination process.

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