Monday, February 28, 2011
With each step I feel how soft the ground is, how wet it is, how fragile and unstable it feels as it shifts under my feet.
It's hard to believe that this ground is the same ground that was bone dry last fall and so hard that it took a pick axe to dig in places.
I can see water standing in the usual spots, as I walk about the garden, checking here and there for flowers. I can still count the number of open crocuses on one hand, but it is at least a start.
I stop and look at the vegetable garden and wonder when it will be dry enough to pull out all the wood around the raised beds. I want to change the configuration of beds but remember what I was taught growing up. Don't dig in that wet ground! You'll ruin it and it will take a whole year, a whole cycle of freeze, thaw, freeze, thaw to make it right again.
No one told whoever tried to dig up this bulb that now is not the time to dig!
The nerve. No rabbit did this, which means that I have a new enemy in my garden. Chipmunks? Squirrels? I hope I am a worthy and victorious adversary over whoever it is. And I wonder why we have to be adversaries at all. I wish I could just tell them, "Please stop digging", and they would obey me.
I see that I left a lot of perennials and grasses standing for winter interest. It doesn't look all that interesting now and I hope soon for a less busy day so I can start cutting everything back, before the first real flush of new growth.
I look about the garden and it dawns on me that with last season's changes, which included the new design and new planting beds, I have a new garden. It will be fun to start planting in earnest to fill all these new beds.
I finish my walk around the garden, leaving behind my footsteps and taking with me a list of "to do's" and the wish for a sunny day in which to do them.