In the early light of morning, after letting the chickens out of the hen house and into their run for the day, I like to take a slow turn around the garden.
Until just a few months ago we only got out to the farm every few days during the growing season, and hardly at all in the winter, and so being able to walk through the garden daily is still a thrill and dream. I check to see if there’s been any damage from errant critters, and note things that need to be done. And, most especially, I like to observe the changing signs of the seasons.
The swelling of tiny buds on the blueberry bushes. The deafening chorus of frogs.
The sudden thrusting forth of the garlic.
This is it, for me. The definitive sign that spring is coming!
I don’t know what the weather will be like between now and summer. I would love an early (and sustained) spate of warm weather, but if I can’t have that then I just hope things stay seasonable. I also hope hope hope and say a little prayer daily that it won’t be like last year, and rain torrentially up until almost July. Anything but that.
No matter what happens with the weather though, at least I know that there will be garlic.
They made it through the coldest times, these valiant little foot soldiers. They bravely lead the way, and all the rest will follow.