For months the ground has looked like this; snow covered, rabbit trails tracing a picture across the landscape between snowfalls. Ice. Cold. Barren.
And now we enter the season of in-between. Of 10 degrees and windy switching places with 34 and sunny on a daily basis. Weather that can't make up its mind. Hope of warmth dashed with random snowfalls. Promise of mud to come.
It is SO hard to wait. Knowing that spring will come, the trees will bud, the flowers will bloom but not certain just how long that day will be in coming. How long we'll have to deal with the endless ritual of gloves and snowpants and coats and hats. Ten minutes added to the morning routine.
Spring will come and I am living with that hope, buying my seeds, plotting my garden layout, readying the starting trays for the right moment.
As much as I
hate dislike winter, would I really want to do without this season of anxious anticipation? Would I appreciate spring, really live it if there were never a winter? Would the warmth of the sun satisfy me if I never felt cold?
It's supposed to snow again this weekend. I'm staring at my seeds and living into the promise of spring.