I am so deeply refreshed to be in this third month of the new year, teetering giddily on the knife edge of springtime. The farm has thankfully survived every brutal winter storm that has come our way since last October. Our family is thriving and reaching warmly, patiently, towards brand new miracles. Every day I feel more of that old, familiar, vernal energy thrumming against my bones. It feels the way dirt smells, and it enlivens all my work. It makes everything seem not just possible but also purposeful. That’s beautiful.
Last week, on a whim, we hung LED lights around the outside edge of the yurt. It’s one more quirky layer added to the structure, wildly imperfect and sparkling and welcoming. Hopefully we will soon be filling the yurt itself with people.
Also last week, I finally took time to start a few trays of seeds, and before the weekend arrived they had already sprouted. All of them! So I planted more and eventually hung a bigger sun lamp. I never get tired of this miracle. Genovese basil, several beautiful kinds of tomatoes (especially excited about the tie dye variety) and sweet peppers, Queen Anne’s Lace, Bergamot, tomatillos, and more. I have lots of gourmet lettuce blend growing, too, in those large plastic clamshells you buy filled with fancy salad mix in the produce department. I find this clever repurposing, well, clever. It’s the best tiny greenhouse money doesn’t even have to buy (twice).
I want to prune and clean the gardens hard, but expereince tells me to wait a few more weeks, maybe into late April this year. In the flower beds and herb garden, I have only scooted away enough oak leaves to enjoy the early-blooming tulips and daffodils. That much is safe. But overall, we will have to endure the widespread, messy, sepia dormancy a while longer, for the safety of all those perennials and shrubs still in hiding. Happily, I do see feathery, ruby colored buds on my hydrangeas and hints of electric green in the deepest twigs of my boxwoods. Just like hope, the beginning of springtime is quiet and shy but certainly there.
Last Thursday I launched a story-telling-slash-interview project to commemorate one year in pandemic. My heart’s desire is to collect and share as many varied stories as possible, to capture our collective and individual pandemic memories. Such a time in history! It will all eventually be printed into a booklet, for our time capsule. I want the good, the bad, the scary, the historic, the funny, all of it. Friends and family volunteered quickly, and as of today I have nine interviews completed with seventeen in the wings, ready to Zoom. The stories are all so interesting, I love it. And I love you all for sharing. Stay tuned for each of those to appear individually!
On the topic of interviewing people, if you are fortunate enough to still have your parents alive and in your life, I strongly encourage you to ask them questions as if they are normal people. Very interesting. Who knew parents had so many original thoughts and ideas? Amazing.
Closing up for tonight, friends. I hope you are feeling some of the refreshment of early spring. I hope you are enjoying the slightly longer days and the noticeably warmer skies. Do you want to participate in the pandemic interview project? Drop me a note! Everyone is welcome.
“Behold, my friends, the spring is come;
the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun,
and we shall soon see the results of their love!”