My spring fever is raging this year. No, no, not that kind of spring fever. I’m talking about the sudden frantic rush to get the garden tilled and harrowed, indoor seedlings sprouted and potted, compost distributed, rhubarb picked and processed, and each crop planted out in good time.
Last year, the early spring weather was kind to me. It allowed windows of fine weather between spurts of rain so I could prepare the ground at a leisurely pace. All three sections of my garden were tilled, prepped, and primped by May 1.
This year, the climate showed its mean streak and the weather sabotaged me week after week. On any day that it wasn’t pouring rain, the ground was too sodden from the previous days of rain to be tilled. When the rains finally let up, the rush began. Even so, here it is, May 10, and I’m only two thirds of the way through my ground preparations.
Sigh. I lie. I’m not really at the two thirds mark, but I’m telling myself that little white fib to keep my spirits up. It’s not a big falsehood because I’m definitely more than half way to the finish line. I’m pretty sure I’m past the half way mark. Probably. Sigh.
Spring is in full acceleration. Weeds that sprouted only yesterday (or so it seems) have leafed out, bloomed, and erupted into seed. Yes, I’m talking about YOU, dandelions and bittercress. Of course, this outburst of weeds demands its own share of attention. So does the lawn, which is lush with spring rains and warmer temperatures and grows rampantly.
Still, despite my fever to get the ground ready and keep the lawn from growing so tall it chokes the mower into silence, I know everything will work out. I’m sure everything will work out. Pretty sure.
I must concentrate on the successes. The rhubarb is waist high and vigorous this spring, a pleasure to behold. Already, I’ve picked, processed, and canned three kettle runs. That’s three times seven for 21 litres of this glorious vegetable. It is an excellent year for the rhubarb.
On the living room window sill, squash seedlings are bursting forth in their little pots of soil – zucchini, vegetable marrow, spaghetti squash, and pumpkin. Unlike the chard, already claiming its space in the great outdoors, the squash expect to be pampered indoors, then slowly hardened off before they will brave the open garden. For now, they are loving their hot window ledge.
Spring, spring, spring. It is a time of anticipation, a time of new life and new growth. What gardener doesn’t feel thrills at the sudden explosion of green vegetation dotted with red, yellow, blue, or white flowers, magnificent banquets for bees. The songs of sparrows, warblers, and wrens express what we feel.
To quote and enhance the words of that most famous poet, Anonymous, “Spring is sprung, the grass is riz, the birdies know what joy this iz.”
Young readers can hear a sparrow sing as they learn about the letter S in my video for kids: