The Impatient Gardener

March 10, 2011 at 9:05 am Leave a comment

T.S. Eliot’s poem, The Wasted Land, declares April “the cruelest month” but I disagree; March is much much crueler, at least to a gardener. Early March throws upper Midwesterners a few promising days in the 40s, and sometimes even the 50s and 60s, and yet March can turn around and produce snow, sleet, freezing rain and bone-chilling temperatures.

Yesterday it snowed, a wet heavy slop that fell like slush from the sky and congealed on the ground and pavement. A day like yesterday can put an anxious gardener, one desperately clinging to the spring promise of blooms and greenery to come, into a stupor. Although the seasons can’t be rushed, I’m an incredibly impatient gardener, and I don’t know many who aren’t like me at this time of year, succumbing to an unbridled case of spring fever.

As if on cue, yesterday as the snow was falling my little flat of impatiens (too crowded, and planted way too early, impatien(t) gardener that I am) produced a hopeful bloom indoors under the bright fluorescent lights in my home office. And I’m reminded that, despite all appearances to the contrary, spring always comes eventually.


Entry filed under: Random Babbling, Waxing Poetic. Tags: , , , , .

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