The Poor Farmer's Fertilizer, or "The Bune and the Seyle"

We are all dreaming of spring. Literally. I have had several dreams that the snow has thawed overnight, at least mostly, to reveal green grass; I'm a bit disheartened that it's gone but usually very excited to see green.

Today, the children put on a puppet show, which title they carefully inscribed on the marquee of the theater, "The Bune and the Seyle" (read "The Bunny and the Seal"). The title characters have green trees (blocks and scarves) and flowering plants (leis in discarded paper tubes) and realize that some of the flowers give birth to baby bunnies, much to everyone's delight. The end. Loud applause. Twice more, a few variations, lots of applause.

Bud was a tad disappointed about the Groundhog's prediction, thinking it meant the end of snow immediately and the complete inability for him to have another snowball fight. Sis just keeps assuring him that spring will come soon. Not today.

And not Saturday or Tuesday/Wednesday, when we are expecting more snow. Someone at church called snow the "poor farmer's fertilizer," which I'd never heard before. If it is, my garden is going to be gorgeous! I do pine for seeds and plants and gardens. As you might know I'm a novice, even relatively indifferent, gardener at best (meaning I forget to weed and water, trusting the plants to be hearty and do their plant thing in nature as nature intended. Maybe "ignorant" is a better word.) But reading And the Good Brown Earth and How Groundhog's Garden Grew to the kids, flipping through The Green Hour and Roots, Shoots, Buckets and Boots and Sunflower Houses and Toad Cottages and Shooting Stars, I get carried away somewhere warmer . . . . I have a Seed Saver catalog upstairs and am having delusions of grandeur of tipi-shaped bean poles covered in flowering runner beans with large yellow squash and kale nearby, and herbs and hanging tomatoes and even some flowers, watered by my rain barrel and with mulch from my "Death Star" composter . . . . with trips to our CSA and to the PYO for berries to put up again. At least I have 6 more jars of strawberry jam to get us through until the snow melts (which I'm predicting for April, later for our 8' mountain), until I can have my postponed Groundhog Day party turned "welcome spring" garden-planting party.

Until then, I say, bring on that fertilizer!