Well, I am laughing my head off over here at my own hilarious impatience, at my enthusiasm for spring to come. Would you believe, it snowed on the night of my last blog entry, the one about spring being just round the bend. The one about little green shoots and sunshine.
Here I was, on the sunny sunday just past with my seed catalogues out planning my garden. I was signing up for bee keeping courses, thinking about what flowers to grow and which varieties of squash to put in this year. I was heading down to the garden in a day or so to mix some more compost in, that was, until the ground froze solid. There I was bent down in the dirt considering a good place to plant Jerusalem artichokes, whilst the heavens were preparing to snow. I was convinced by my own willfulness, that spring was not only coming, but that indeed, it was here. And then, just like that, the elements changed their minds and it snowed on my little green shoots. It snowed on everything, including my plans.
Last Years Veg Plot
Yes, I was attached to it being spring. Ready for it in both body and mind. I was over winter. I was moving on to the next season. I was putting my woolly hats away, thinking about bare feet and wearing cotton skirts without long underwear. I was imagining the taste of fresh salads and sweet raspberries off the bush.
Last years raspberries
And then, boom, I go to bed one night, and wake up the next day, to a land of snowy white.
Clearly, it is still winter, I think to myself as I walk across the cold wooden floor to put the kettle on. I look over at the seeds in their basket, and say, "it's gonna be a while yet little ones, I think I was jumping the gun." And I swear that's when I heard them laughing, saying something to the effect of "oh those poor humans, they're such an impatient lot, what's the hurry..."
And when you've got a basket of seeds sitting on your kitchen table having a laugh at you, you have to join them. This is the kind of thing that can only be taken with a sense of humour. One must be able to laugh at one's self when the circumstances change in a way that one least expects. It might be our only hope. The number of times in my life that I have been ready for "this" to happen, and then suddenly out of nowhere, "that" happens, and the numbers of times I have been so frustrated by a turn of events.
And so, I am going to heed this new learning with a hearty laugh. I am going to put my wool socks back on and make a cup of hot chocolate. Then I am going to crack some kind of fat delicious novel and put my feet up while I still can, before the sun really starts shining, and the garden really starts growing, and I get so damn busy I won't have time to read. eh eh eh