Spring!

It snowed a few days ago. I had started believing that I had somehow been transported to Westeros and would be looking at a ten year winter. Don't get me wrong. I love winter. I love snow. I love snowy days when I can sit inside with the curtains pulled back and watch the flakes flutter (or even pour) to the ground making everything crisp and white and pretty. Of course I only want to sit inside on those days and knit or read or come up here to my attic and sew or write or spin. I have enough activities that I could be trapped in my house for a few days and not get bored. I do no like driving in snow. This entire past winter I kept a close eye on when it was supposed to snow so I knew when I would have to be at work and need to drive in the mess.

Just when I was thinking that spring would never arrive, I came home and found crocuses growing in my flower beds. Beautiful purple sprigs of spring with bees buzzing all around them, happy that they could at last collect nectar. I walked around my house with it's empty beds and noticed little bits of spring all over the place. Some sort of lily was showing itself on the side of the house. Hostas are working their way to the top of the soil. The dogwood tree and maple tree both have buds on them, anxious, themselves, for spring. The winter birds seemed to have moved further north as I haven't seen any of the Canadian sparrows at the feeder in the past week. Nature knows even when we feel doomed to wear our coats, hats and mittens forever.

As much as I love winter, I am looking forward to spring this year. I'm actually wanting to do spring cleaning and air the house out. (I have the windows open today as the temperatures are supposed to get to almost 60°F.) I want to make fresh curtains for my kitchen in light spring colors (and because my next door neighbor  has taken to cooking in the buff and while he has a nice enough physique, I really didn't want to know that much about him). I want to dust the cobwebs from the basement and sweep the attic from the bits of yarn and thread clippings that have gathered. I yearn for the peonies to bloom and fill my house with their heady aroma. I will also appreciate not having to wear two to three layers of clothes, plus a sweater and a coat with hat, mittens, and a scarf just to go put something in the trashcan.

You may hear me complain when July and August come around because I really don't like warm weather. I don't like the funky smell that air conditioners pump into the house. I do not like being hot and sweaty. When I start to get whiny, remind me that fall is just around the corner and then it will be winter again. I suppose if it weren't for summer I wouldn't appreciate winter at all. It's a cycle and it is a lovely one as a whole. I am glad that I live somewhere that has four seasons. I've missed that. So bloom you little flowers. Pop your heads up all the lushness in my flowerbeds. Open up your seed pods cottonwoods. Return to the feeders all you bluebirds and chipmunks. Spring is coming!

(As a public service announcement I must tell you that according to Farmer's Almanac we are expecting a mid to late April blizzard.  You have been warned.)

Spring?

I'm hesitant to actually say that spring is here despite all the signs I've seen: a female cardinal gathering sticks to refurbish her nest in the azalea bush; the buds of my oak leaf hydrangea; a weed in my winter-dead lawn; and the green haze of the oak pollen casting an eerie sheen over my car. In my excitement of warmer weather I even made a new skirt that has very wild flowers in aqua, lime, marmalade and fuchsia to go with my pink Converse tennis shoes (the ones with the lime green laces). I'm no longer fantasizing about knitting a fisherman sweater out of 100% wool, but instead am planning my sock selections for easy portable and cooler knitting.

However, I am resisting the urge to go out and plant flowers. My grandmother always told me to "wait until the ides of March" to plant. She said that anything planted prior to March 15th would die because there will always be a last frost. Once you get past the 15th then plant to your heart's content (unless of course Farmer's Almanac tells you to wait again.)

It's odd that I am happy about spring. I love autumn and winter and don't tolerate warm weather well at all. But this past winter has been exceptionally cold. We had a week where it never got above thirty-five degrees Fahrenheit and the nights were in the lower twenties and upper teens. (Don't laugh all you northern people, that's down right bitter for North Florida.) But for some reason seeing Mrs. Cardinal back in my yard made me smile and get that giddy feeling that this oppresionable weather might just be over. I'm thinking of things I want my gardener to do (gardener = my brother who gives me a very good rate on mowing my lawn). I'm thinking of what I want to do in my garden beds and all the work I should be doing this next week to prepare them.

Which brings us around to cooking (because this blog is supposed to be about knitting, cooking and writing and not just me rambling on about miscellaneous topics). I've outgrown my herb box. In fact my herb box is falling to pieces and needs to be replaced. This past year my brother (the aforementioned gardener) cleared out a ton of brush that was growing out in front of my house. I have this grandiose plan of paving that area to make a front porch patio. Behind all that brush, bracketing my front door, were two very long brick planters. Oh, I knew they were there, but they were never accessible. Now I can walk right up to them and they are screaming to be very long herb boxes. I'm imagining regrowing my rosemary hedge and bushes of basil. I want to actually have my own sage this year and I want to give the thyme room to creep like it wants to. I'm imagining bees buzzing around my lavender and lemon balm and pots of peppermint scattered around the patio.

There is just something wonderful about growing your own herbs. Your food just tastes better when the herbs are fresh and they come from your own garden. Spaghetti sauce just tastes richer when it came out of the garden just minutes before being thrown into the pot. All the essence and fragrance are still clinging to them and your fingers smell delightfully of rosemary and oregano. It is satisfying to be able to say, "I grew this sauce."

So come on Spring. Persephone awake from your underground captivity and bring the sun back with you. Sun warm the Earth so it will allow the plants to thrive. Let the air blow sweet breezes and the rains fall gently. I'm ready this year, so bring it on!