March – Lamb, Lion or just a tease

I wish I could say there was a spring in my step when I walk out the door, but all I get is a slap in the face.  What did I do wrong? What did I say? (Maybe I shouldn’t go there because that’s way too much baggage to lay on Mother Nature.) All I really want is for the ground to thaw out.  Is that too much to ask?  This morning I walked across a crust of frozen earth that did not look anywhere near wanting to have the first tender transplant nestled into its bosom. The wind howled through the high tunnel like Alan Ginsberg on his way to beat poet convention. Inside was warm and comforting, but the whole time I worked through the beds with my spade there was a constant nagging from the breath of a mother wind that kept reminding me that worth is only measured by survival. Which reminds me, when did mother nature become a cheer leader for Vladimir Putin?

But hope is not lost. There will be another month and one after that, and each one will bring its own inimitable scourge – or pint of berries or taste of sweet corn or irresistible peach.