Changing Seasons

I saw a ladybug today!  A bright red dot was on my car window, and when I flicked it off, it flew away!  Getting out of the car a few minutes ago, a bright spot of yellow on the dead grass greeted me.  A dandelion! Ugh!  Both, signs of spring, though.

The unaccustomedly warmish weather and the beautiful sunshine after such a cold, snowy season was just the excuse I needed to finally bring our porch out of winter.  I bagged up the pine cones and greenery from a display in our garden wagon and replaced them with a life-like artificial bouquet of flowers tumbling from a wicker basket. I had  long since removed Christmas decor, and now with a little neatening and straightening, the screened porch looked springlike and inviting.

"Would you like to have lunch on the porch?" I asked my husband.  Howard was agreeable, so I spread a bright lunch cloth over the wicker table, and voila! we were back in business! I pulled the table into the splash of sunlight at one end of the porch, and the glass storm door blocked the wind, so we were comfortable eating our chicken-salad in the refreshing, outdoor atmosphere.

Later, driving out to the country to our son's farm, we found them engaged in a perennial ritual of spring: Putting in a garden!  The ground had been prepared for months, but today they made furrows and planted potatoes and onion sets, with the help of two friends who are going to grow things there as well.  Although  I didn't get down on my hands and knees and place and pat the dirt over the potatoes as they did, I did enjoy the beautiful vistas of rolling prairie and dried, windswept grass with signs of spring bursting out all over!

The children's redwood playground set had been transported to their country location and was set up and and being refurbished.  Our two young granddaughters and a neighbor child were sliding, climbing and swinging from bars in their boundless energy and freedom from school on this Presidents' Day.  I know spring won't officially be here for another month, but this wonderful reprieve from the long, long winter is just the tonic I need.

One of the seasoned gardeners helping today said she always planted potatoes and root crops in the dark of the moon.  I remembered my mother planting that way, too.  "The dark of the moon is after the full moon when the moon starts to wan," she said.  "The light of the moon is when it is waxing toward a new moon.  Then you can plant what grows on top of the ground," she finished.

My daughter-in-law was going to fill out a row of potatoes with onions when the capable, energetic lady with windblown white hair teased, "If you plant them too close together, the onions will get in the eyes of the potatoes and make them cry."  Whether with help from the farmers' almanac, tried and true experience or funny old sayings, the garden was getting planted.  I couldn't help recognizing that planting a garden is an exercise of faith. Faith in the future, and faith in God, who planted the first garden.  And my cleaning the porch was having faith that spring is just around the corner!