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It's Saturday and There's Work to be Done in the Garden

Its late March here in Michigan, the weather is still cold and it's wet. When I say wet, I don't mean we've had a day or two of light rain. I mean wet. Last week there was 30 inches of snow still on the ground and the temperatures were in the high thirties.

Then late last week something magical happened. It was almost as if Mother Nature herself had suddenly realized that spring had arrived and it was yet again time for her to shine. The temperatures began to rise, the gray and blue clouds of winter were gone, the sun was shining brightly, the snow began to melt, and the hundreds of daffodils that came with my land began to peak out of their winter's home.

Thursday night the warmth of the day brought evening thunderstorms, helping to speed the melting of the snow and Friday, although it was warm and sunny, it was just too wet and muddy to work outside. By Saturday morning all of the snow had melted, even that which was plowed into five foot piles during the winter and effectively covering all of my tulip beds along the driveway.

Saturday I am ready though, and I rise early. So early in fact that neither the sun nor my old hound dog is up yet. I turn on the lights, brew some coffee and wait. "It won't be long now," I tell the hound as she looks quizzically at me from her bed in the living room wondering why on earth I am up at this ungodly hour. As the morning becomes light enough to begin my spring gardening tasks I tell the dog, "Come on hound, It's Saturday and there's work to be done in the garden."

I work tirelessly, stopping only a couple of times to go back inside and pour myself more coffee. By two in the afternoon I am hungry, I have been pulling the remains of last year's tomato plants, hoeing and raking. My mind begins to wander. I begin to think of the giant Beefsteak tomatoes from last summer and the wonderful sandwiches I lunched on almost daily then.

Yes, last year's garden was a good one. A bountiful crop you might say, and quite possibly the best I have ever had. Those are fond memories, and my goal this year is not to equal that feat of farming, but to make this garden the best I have ever had.

Those are indeed fond memories, but I begin to look back on years past while I work. Thoughts of gardens from summers of long ago fill my mind, and a smile comes to my face.

I think of my childhood and the gardens of my youth. The anticipation of a coming weekend with it's sleepovers with my young friends

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