Spring Found Me

The little white peppery chickweed is blooming all over the fields, which are blushing green now. Greening up, that is what Tressie used to call it. We took a walk across the meadow and found what is making the land turn green is the little tufts of wild garlic, the sprouting of wild orange daylily leaves, dandelion greens and all matter of wild things, raring to go.

Since I am a lazy type of gardener, and one who likes to see natural things, I leave last autumn’s flower stalks up in the garden all winter. I love how the asters skeleton holds the February snows, turning themselves into white flowers. And the dry shells of the columbines and the primroses rattle in the wind making gentle noise.

It is only now in late March and early April with green bulbs pushing up from the earth that I am inspired to go out and take down the old so that the new can be seen. I have fun snapping off last year’s apparel while the cardinal sings from the wild cherry tree,
“Prettier, Prettier, Prettier!”

I keep being constantly startled by little green sprouts that are rising beneath my feet, stirring and being outright bold in their determination that it is spring.

I carry larkspur packets in my pockets and go around tucking the little black seeds into any loose spot of dirt. I just keep planting them here and there, as they do not self-sow for me. They seem to like a sweeter soil then mine. My chickens go around scratching up little areas in the yard. I fill them up with larkspur seeds. It is ok to plant these seeds early, they like a little nip of cold, it gets them going. They like it dark also so I push each one of them down into the soft bed of dirt. I cover them with a little earth blanket and then I tuck them in tight with a push of my finger.

In the evening when I go out on the front porch to gather more wood for the fire I am awed by the chorus that fills the night air. Coming up from the valley where the creek curves through the hills, is a jubilant song, a song full of hope, full of life and full of promise. I thank God for Spring Peepers. At first I could barely hear them but with each passing night their song grows louder so that now they sound like a million voices. Each one of them is so little; I saw one once when it escaped from the creek and came up to my front door, just a tiny little thing he was. It is inspiring to know that they can all get together and sing a song so loud and so full.