Tracking Spring

Based on the first two days of April, if you go for these almanac-like cliches, we are in for a florapalooza of a May here - assuming topsoil and plant material do not totally wash away. I guess technically we only had an official 3/4 inch recorded here in Seattle, but I'd swear I drove through more than an inch during April Fool's RT drive south on I-5 to meet up with sister-in-law, her SO, and daughter replete with two Blue Healers now, including pup. Nasty driving. As Bob would have it, "the wind howled like a hammer." Not to mention "the highway is for gamblers, better use your sense."

But out in the country the wild creatures are compelled to face down the weather. They are a lot more tuned in to the minimum needed to survive than I am. Tracy Chapman's words "there is fiction in between you and reality" are ever-so-true.

The big seeds I put in the ground last weekend (peas and favas) are probably fine, but I'm concerned that those tiny little guys only 1/4" deep may be a washout.

Mercifully, today was quite an improvement. It was a little drippy when I caught the bus out of (down) town at lunch in search of Lysichiton (skunk cabbage) blooms - my personal Spring tell-tale (my toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot-heals to be wanderin'). I wasn't going that far - I have several season-monitoring stations within a 20-minute bus ride of downtown. These are "natural areas," though not necessarily truly bucolic - today's in particular featured far more traffic noise than I remembered. I walked back to the office after a successful skunk cabbage sighting. We can move on now. No fences facing. Okay, I was pretty sure I spotted a great patch of the great yellow/green-glowing stuff aside I-5 the other day - this was just data validation. Spring is officially here for me (never mind the fact that I am toying with adding swim fins and a snorkle to my tote-bag).

Of course the conditions likely have been and may continue to be far more unspeakable where many of you are. Believe me, I am not gloating. For one thing, I wouldn't dare, considering we had snow flurries only a week ago.

In short, I am upbeat and hopeful, stopping short of ebullient, on Spring and, I guess, larger matters as well.

Catching a Spring Break: Get Those Seeds In!

We caught a huge break here yesterday, weather-wise. Of course, compared to big swaths of the country, we almost always do, perhaps seemingly inhabiting the land of milk and honey. We're not facing epochal floods involving ice and frozen sandbags like Fargo. No eleven-foot drifts of snow like Amarillo. Tornadoes do not smite us.

After mini-nasty Saturday, ranging from merely full overcast to semi-serious sleet/snow combo, the Sunday forecast was mealy-mouthed about sunbreaks, yet we awoke to full blue. But barely post-breakfast (our usual Sunday: waffles, link sausage, and grapefruit), the blue was gone. However, the cloudcover passed on and the temperature warmed to the point of (for me) shirt-sleeve conditions. We ran a few errands (birdseed, gasoline, and propane, quite a combo) but then consulted to-do lists, priorities, and options, and independently concluded that we couldn't afford to waste sunny yard time.

In my case, I had soaked three types of peas in anticipation of planting. These had to be taken care of wind, rain, or shine. Thankfully it was the latter!

Along the way I managed to get in my first broad beans (yes, indeed, favas, as in Silence of the Lambs) and one row each of two different greens/mesclun mixes. Marg and I both wrestled some nasty delinquent brambles to their demise, she then moving on to more weeding while I went after trees, including both tricky bracing-and-propping and my most arborial rose-work, involving the climber that stretches something like 30 feet in the air thanks to the gracious support of the yellow transparent apple.

I felt a little foolish actually troubling myself to apply water to those pea/bean/greens seeds considering our recent weather (hose off, I had to tote water from potting shed), but as it has happened, I'm sure glad I did. Peas were pre-soaked, so they would have been fine anyway, but showers expected last night did not happen, nor has there yet been any of the increasing late showers called for tonight.

Rhubarb is starting to show signs of leaf-forming. Crocus and daffodils are going well, along with those trailing bluish-purple things whose name escapes me right now. Early cherries are gorgeous, and forsythia, a personal fave, is at its' peak.