Paul Farris has not tilled his garden, although he says he has the tomato seedlings started. In a moment of ridiculous hope, I spaded the tomato patch beside the fence. Yesterday snow fell on it, making the mud even yet stickier. Typically the earliest leaves appear on the weeping willows, but this week their drooping, breezy branches hang in a sort of brown and gray desperate failure.
|What spring should look like, but not this year.|
There is an old hymn, No. 227 in Heavenly Highway Hymns, a Choice Collection of Gospel Songs, both Old and New, Suitable for Religious Work and Worship, Shape Notes Only. "Beautiful Isle" begins, "Somewhere the sun is shining, Somewhere the song birds dwell. . ." Somewhere else, but not here. Not at this time.
Too cold to work in the yard; too wet to plant lettuce, regardless of what the planting sign is; too cloudy to set pansies out in the pots. Cows struggle in the mire left by daily rain and/or snow, unable to graze on the dun-colored grass. This third week of spring continues absurdly gray and wet.
Wait. What? Never mind. The sun is out!