We had a good rain last week Friday and the poplars, hydraulically powered, popped out their leaves and now the air smells heavenly. Even shivering in town at the Farmers Market on Saturday we all were mmm-ing over how the scent pervades the air. Of course the grass & dandelions are hydraulic as well. . . but in about a month when the dandelions go to seed the wild roses will bloom so spring is well along. Snow is forecast for tomorrow, of course. I have been madly digging plants for the market, shipping orders, begging the weeds to wait, and wildly eyeing the rhubarb. (Vanilla yogurt and stewed rhubarb make a nice breakfast and pretend to be a custard tart.) Now the race is on and things come thick and fast. I got a call on Sunday that if I still wanted raspberry plants I had better come dig. I did, so I went, and also wound up with blackberry plants that look like they could build houses. This in a climate I’ve understood was too tough for blackberries; but these came from an old homestead on the Pend Orielle river and they outlasted the homesteaders. Now I need to study up on trellising (corseting!). I put the raspberries in along the drip line in the orchard and the blackberries along the deer fence by the shop–I figure the deer can do part of my pruning for me. If I could only get them to weed without eating the spinach! In digging plants I keep having to stop and admire the blooms on things–the Auricula primroses show me a new color every day and there are yellow double primroses today. The lavender doubles I got originally from the mother of a dear friend; I found out this morning that that friend has cancer and for once the flowers made me cry instead of smile.
In the end, this may be the most important thing about frost: Frost slows us down. In spring, it tempers our eagerness. In fall, it brings closure and rest. In our gotta-go world–where every nanosecond seems to count–slowness can be a great gift. So rather than see Jack Frost as an adversary, you could choose to greet him as a friend.
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