Winter begets Spring

My dad and I at Mardi Gras in 2007 after my Iraq deployment

When I left the doctor yesterday, I was devastated.  As I drove home, I felt old and barren and I blamed myself for pissing away my youth on things I have nothing to show for except memories I can barely write about anymore.  I started to feel numb to protect myself from the pain I was feeling and the scenery began whizzing my car’s windshield.  The trees had no leaves; everything was grey and lifeless.  Everything was sleeping.   But the sun was shining and bright and I thought to myself, there are tiny little buds beneath those dormant branches that will sprout soon.

The Space Needle in Spring

Spring will be here before I know it and I will be sneezing from all the flowers—life will be abundant again.  I didn’t realize until today as I started thinking we need to plant seeds soon for our plot in the community pea patch if we want ripe, juicy tomatoes in August.  I’ve already ordered the seeds and put planting instructions into a spreadsheet.  I did this so I wouldn’t be surprised by the fact that it’s February 24^th in case I was planning on doing nothing this week, but apparently I have 14 varieties of tomatoes and peppers to plant and I haven’t even thought about which containers they will go in, let alone purchased the soil.  Yeah, about that. 

Last year, we flew by the seat of our pants and it worked.  We had a beautiful harvest and not much failed.  Apparently, according to the unwanted advice and comments from other gardeners in the pea patch, no one in the Pacific Northwest plants tomatoes from seed directly into the soil.  If you are going to have any success, you have to either start the seeds in January, or buy starts from a nursery.  Well, my tomatoes not only grew from seed after I planted them directly in the soil in May, but they made some pretty incredible salsa and were darn tasty on summer salads.  This year, I won’t take my chances though since last year was unseasonably dry and hot.  I’ll start those seeds indoors in two weeks.  Last year was the equivalent of two teenagers experimenting in the back of a car and getting pregnant when the planets aligned.  We know our luck won't let this happen again.  Seeds need conditions to be just right to grow.

Duane tilling our pea patch plot before we planted last year

I will blog later about other aspects of beginning, growing, and sustaining a garden.  I just wanted to point out today that it’s February.  This darkness and the cold, rainy days will be over soon.  Spring will be here soon and life will be bursting at the seams all around us.  For us, that may mean a pregnancy, but it may also mean the birth of a new direction for our family.  I don’t know, but right now I'm focused on creating the right conditions to make those seeds sprout and take hold. 

In this moment, not much is clear.  But it doesn't matter.  What does matter is that when I was noticing only the lifeless tree branches and yellow grass, suddenly I am planning for a new season and cultivating life.  Winter always begets spring.  It’s part of life.  Knowing this gives me hope when everything looked bleak and dormant not long ago.