Although the shortest of days have gone by and whatever nastiness of weather we have before us; the month of February passes.
March is near, and each day we ebb out a few more cherished moments of sunlight.
Minute by minute, the days lengthen out, almost imperceptible, even as the growth of a child. All at once the moment comes as if by epiphany; we notice we are out of doors in twilight for another quarter of a precious hour.
The air is still bitingly cold.
The sun shines strong enough to cause icicles to drip, that is hope.
My fingers ache to dig in the garden’s soil. To feel the warmth of the sun’s rays on my neck.
I think I will spend some time today sorting and gathering seeds saved, seeds bought, clay potting pots, and all of the thingamajigs, and whatchamacallits a gardening crazy girl could wish for.
I wonder how many seedlings will survive a Walker Hound 3 month old pup? Maybe I should hold off on that.