Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Spring Fever in Spring

Through the pear tree...

Today I am suffering from spring fever. The day is gorgeous: sunny skies, light breeze, temperatures in the 60's. But with the inch and a half of rain we've had since Saturday, the ground is too wet to work. Even standing on my tramped-down pathway left a wet puddled footprint. I'm hoping for the ground to dry out enough for me to at least build some twine trellises for the peas. This afternoon I will be starting more tomatoes, peppers, herbs and flowers. Some of this next round of plants will go in the garden, but some of them will be for other people. I've had a few folks ask for tomatoes and herbs, so I'll get them started. This way they'll be able to grow varieties they wouldn't otherwise be able to if they were buying them from a garden store.
One week old arugula.

Today, the tomatoes I started by seed last week are going to go under the lights. All but a handful have germinated, and those that haven't probably won't be too adversely affected by the supply of light. The flowers and herbs I planted (marigolds, geraniums, basil, tansy) had already germinated by the time we returned from Milwaukee on Saturday night. It amazes me how quickly some things pop up out of the ground. In the actual garden, the arugula is proving to be the most vigorous grower, as the entire plot of arugula, about three square feet, is up and growing. Radishes, lettuces, and a few beets are also already up in the garden, and this morning I spied the first pea sprouts poking out of the wet soil.

Last night, as I was preparing dinner, I gasped when suddenly a bright red light came through the kitchen window. It was the setting sun. And it was surprising because the day had been cloudy and wet, and I didn't expect much of a sunset. Instead, we were granted the most beautiful sunset I've seen in a long while. The sun, exaggerated and red, appeared whole through the only gap in the clouds: just above the horizon. The light seemed to be coming from six feet off the ground, and was a steady, bright reddish pink. The kitchen walls were splashed with red, and when I stepped outside, the effect was even more widespread. Our entire eastern horizon is trees, as the woods begin right at the end of the yard, perhaps 100 feet from the house. These trees, most of which are slightly swollen with buds and some visibly softer-looking with their light green leaves, were all equally spray-painted with a rosy pink light across their midsections. The pear blossoms, normally white, were an almost luminescent pink color. And the grass seemed even greener. The brown soil in the garden seemed even more teeming with life. The frogs were croaking louder, the birds singing closer, the air smelling greener. All in all, it was a spectacular sunset. And as I stood outside, hearing nothing but nature, watching nothing but nature, I once again felt grateful to be given the chance to live here, and to try and eke a living out of this very vibrant nature.

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