Every year at this time I get awfully bored with winter and am ready to get out and play in the yard. A family friend has been posting the most beautiful flowers on Pinterest, and of course I love vegetables out of the garden. Watching P. Allen Smith has even given me the harebrained idea of having a few chickens, not that I'd know what to do with them.
But I do love playing in the dirt. I can't wait until the stores put out their trays of flowers and veggies--seeds and I don't do too well together. Rambo and I will argue about the how and where, and he will get his way. It's only fair: he certainly does the bulk of the work.
Anyway, I can't wait to get outside. I want to have potted plants on the porch again this year. I didn't mess with it last year, knowing I'd have no energy with a newborn and a two-year old. Guess I had women's intuition about the record heat and drought, ha, ha. But I am ready for it this year. I have learned-the hard way, I might add- to wait until April 15th. One of my Harper great aunts told dad not to plant tomatoes until April 10th, the 9th on a leap year. But for us I have found the 15th is a sure date to avoid a late frost. It's nice to look forward to tax day, rather than dread it.
