Thursday, March 3, 2016

Winter's Crust

“Cough, c-c-cough, cough…” the sounds rattle through my chest and generate what feels like loose gray matter resonating throughout my head and face. The productive results of this hacking is an unappealing expectorate resembling a combination between applesauce and vanilla yogurt.  My voice is deeply resonant with intermittent whispered high pitched squeaks.  Joints are rubbing. And the body is achy and weary.

It’s been 12 days with these cold symptoms.  And they’re not getting any better.   But I press on.

Longing for spring. 




Green buds, tiny shoots pushing through the soil. Fuzzy pussy willows swelling with expectation.  Lavender craving warmth  in anticipation.  Spreading its skinny leaves and stretching towards the growing sun in preparation for majestic purple blooms.

Could it be that the daffodils have punctured through winter’s crust?  




The lettuce, ornamental grasses, and flowers are maturing in the growing center of the basement. Soon it will be a jungle down there and plants will eventually be moved to the hardening center - a removable plastic cover over shelves just outside the front door - protected from spring's western winds and variable temperatures.

Over three hundred tomato plants placed strategically in their cells.  And peppers soon to follow.  The frenetic pace of soil preparation, seedling starts, spring debris and left over winter weeding, and hoop house preparation is fast approaching. Often overwhelming; but always exhilarating.

I truly believe that farming must be an activity in heaven.  It brings such joy. Such measure and pace. Such reliance and praise to the Creator. Yes, soon the warmth and sweetness of just turned soil and the freshness of green grasses mowed will be upon us once again. The sun will warm our backs and draw out the freckles. Jackets will be donned and coats and mittens put away until another cold restful season.

Today's Journey Joys: a hot, hot, steamy shower on achy joints and stuffy lungs, flowers, broccoli, cabbage sprouts, a pot of turkey soup and fresh baked bread, and negative findings on follow up tests for my eye. 

Melancholy

I shouldn't write when I'm feeling like this.  Emotionally fragile and oscillating between tears, fears, and frustration.  Yet ...