Yesterday, I did my first serious weeding in the garden. I call it "serious" because I actually accomplished something, not because I got lots done or because it was hard work. The snow had melted off part of a flower bed, so I cleared the edge of it. Last week, I pulled some grass from the little, two-inch-wide strip of bare ground next to the house, but that was mostly symbolic. When the first bit of earth appears in the spring, I just need to get my hands into it.
As the snow melts, all kinds of growing plants are revealed. The first snowdrops emerge ready to bloom, and sometimes the pansies and johnny-jump-ups are actually flowering under the snow. I wonder how they know it's spring?
Actually, I also wonder how I know it's spring, myself. This morning, the ground was covered in snow again. I stepped out the door into a world of white, but it still felt like spring. Is it the smell of growing things that I unconsciously recognize, or something about the strength of the sun? All I know is that it feels totally different from a similar snowy morning in October.
It's too wet now to continue weeding, so I'll do something different today and get back into the garden tomorrow.
|Tulips emerging from a snowbank|