Winter is on the wane — it was in the mid-fifties today, blue skies, sunshine, birds singing and I dug the quackgrass out of an entire bed at the front of the house.
Three years of serious spring composting and my dirt is lovely — even after being trampled hard last summer during construction. Stick a fork in it and it just turns right over, all nice and loose and friable. Hardly any clumps. Big fat earthworms. The youngest dog was quite interested in the whole process, which isn’t surprising since digging holes seems to be his outdoor hobby. Tomorrow the dopey wire fences go in — the two big dogs know to stay out of the garden beds but this newcomer hasn’t learned yet, so another year of tacky edging. He’ll learn. It just takes a while when your a dog to figure out the difference between garden and every other piece of dirt.
So, it happened once more. The sun has come back. The earth is warming up. In on the front porch drinking the first gin-and-tonic of the season. Spring is actually coming round again. Hallelujah.
