and we have come above ground once more as well. We’ve been out of the basement for about a month now, and it’s nice to see the sun shine.
With the state the previous owner left this house, I am surprised that there is anything resembling beauty coming from anywhere on our property, but these little flowers are resiliant, and a pleasant reminder that at some point, somebody else loved our home. With patience and hard work, this house will be looking good again someday.
We’ve decided to wait to plant or change anything – which is much harder for Matty than for myself -until the end of this growing season for two reasons. One – we want to wait and see what else comes up before we just start ripping stuff out of the ground. There are some wonderful flowers growing out of what was going to be our herb garden, and it will be nice to bring them to a safe home after they bloom. The herb garden can wait. Next week is our first CSA week, and there will be plenty of herbs there, I’m sure…
After winter, I get just as sentimental as any New Englander about the blooming pussy willows, or the first crocus that pokes it’s head out of the frosty ground. The blazing yellows of the forsythia and daffodils, followed by rose of sharon, and lilacs – all signs that we have made it through another winter, and that spring has arrived. But I have to admit, that spring is not my favorite season. For me it’s not even a season at all – just a tug of war between winter and summer. People say that March comes in like a lion, and out like lamb. More like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I like the consistency of seasons – the long, carefree days of summer, the crisp air and blazing orange and reds of fall, the dark womb of winter. The hope of warm weather, followed by miserable freezing days, and then back again, is depressing to me.