Since returning from Italy late last month I’ve had “prepare the gardens for spring” on my to-do list, but each weekend has brought freezing temperatures, cold rain or snow, and I keep bumping the item forward.
Last Sunday we had an impressive blizzard here on top of the mountain. The accumulation wasn’t much to write home about, but a fine early-morning sleet quickly turned snow, and a howling gale blew the whole lot of it sideways for the better part of the day.
Under these circumstances I figured I wouldn’t have to worry too much about about getting a jump on the garden. After all, only the most intrepid little bulb would dare to emerge during all of this. But a few warm days last week have coaxed the daffodil shoots up and so now it must be done.
I had high hopes for this weekend, but it’s cold. If I’m lucky we’ll see 55 degrees in the warmest part of the day. The wind chimes are in a frenzy and from my seat by the fire inside, I see the limbs on the trees bending in the breeze. I am not looking forward to this.