It Brings Spring

Calendrically, March brings spring. And, in fact, I have been noticing the shifting-to-higher angle of the sun. This became particularly noticeable to me in February this year, with the several snowstorms we had here–the snow white was a new hue. It was not as gray. I am thinking this is not the snow changing color as the sky it’s reflecting that is gold-bluing. I would take a picture of my vestigial snow today to make the point, but, in fact, the sky is full cloud, and positioning to send down some rain, so the snow is flat-white. Not particularly photogenic.

How are you faring today? I’m kind of in minor mode. The second half of yesterday does not bear repeating. Happily, I slept deeply last night, without dreams of note, and woke to Maria, the tuxedo cat, patiently kneading the blankets that covered my shoulder, which, based on the time (6:00 AM), she had probably been doing for at least an hour. I am eternally grateful for deep sleep.

A couple of days ago I planned my vegetable and herb garden. I have made all sorts of promises to myself that I will be diligent in establishing it carefully, not my usual willy-nilly some seeds here, a semi-mound for the cucumber seeds there, oh look, a space over near that corner, I believe I’ll sow some found ground cherry seeds there. No! I will set out the rows. I will keep to the rows. I will follow the calendar for best-day-to-seed. I will appropriately mark the name of what is in that row and not count on remembering to put it on the chart three days later. I will thin the seedlings when they are two leaves high. I will know which green seedling is a viable vegetable and which is an interloper. I will nourish the seeds, seedlings, plants so that they, in turn, will return the favor. A day later I went and bought two seed packets for vegetables that are not on my garden plan. Argh.

In May? June? I always end up finding starter plants for something I haven’t planned. Then I always try to cram them in. Keep me honest, ask me in June what is planted, what is growing, how much arugula have I had already. Are lima beans showing some promise? Did I carefully mound the pickling cucumbers? Are they flourishing? Did the biennial sage come back? How about the rosemary–has it become warm enough in this growing zone for it to overwinter like it has done for a long time just south of here in NYC? In July will I be weeding in my bathing suit? With icepacks on my neck to keep cool?

Sorry, I digress toward the climate. I want not to bring you down. (As soon as I wrote that last sentence, the song by ELO popped into my head–“Don’t bring me down….Groos! Don’t bring me dooowwwnnn… Anyone remember that song? Jeff Lynne of the excellent band, ELO, and later of the wonderful Traveling Wilburys )

Here is an explanation for “Groos”: the word is a mondegreen in the song that Jeff Lynne is shouting “Bruce”. But Jeff Lynne has explained that he is singing a made-up word, “Groos”, which some have suggested sounds like the German expression “GruB” [that B in German language fonts is a bit more stylized, and pronounced as a hard “s”.], which means “greeting.” Lynne explained that originally he did not realize the meaning of the syllable, and he just used it as a temporary placekeeper to fill a gap in the lyrics, but upon learning the German meaning, he decided to leave it in. This is not the only explanation, but it’s one the Jeff Lynne, the song’s writer is credited with, so I use it. If you want some alternative tales, just look up that line from the song, or ELO, or Jeff Lynne.

Also, if you don’t know who the remarkable Traveling Wilburys are, I really recommend looking them up and listening to some of their songs. Here’s a hint from Wikipedia (also my source for the preceding paragraph):

The Traveling Wilburys were a British-American supergroup formed in Los Angeles in 1988, consisting of Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Jeff Lynne, Roy Orbison and Tom Petty. They were a roots rock band and described as “perhaps the biggest supergroup of all time”

Oh, and, also from Wikipedia, here is the definition of a mondegreen: a mishearing or misinterpretation of a phrase in a way that gives it a new meaning. Mondegreens are most often created by a person listening to a poem or a song; the listener, being unable to hear a lyric clearly, substitutes words that sound similar and make some kind of sense.

Will you be planting a garden? Even a windowsill garden? Regardless if properly planned, prepared, planted, and picked (or not!), I find it such peace. Even if it while I watch the rabbit chews off the heads of the flowers before they can fruit, or the chipmunks grub whatever they can, or the robins, finches, and, yes, cardinals nip at whatever flower, fruit, leaf appeals, or the groundhog lumbers around the edges taking a bite here and there. Happily, the rabbit is finding more and more clover in my grasses, which distracts him from the tulips, nasturtiums, radishes…..

Here’s some advice I saw at a county fair in some part of interior Maine a couple of years ago, take it or not!

Good day!