Usually, sometime toward the end of March, it hits.
The urge to garden. The desire to dig. The need to feel the earth.
And usually, when it hits, there's not a dang thing I can do about it. Because there's usually still snow. Or thick ice patches. And the ground is usually frozen.
But this year?
Not so much!
This is the winter-that's-not-really-a-winter; the what-if-they-gave-a-winter-and-no-one-came-winter; the lost season. The ground is not frozen. There is no snow cover. Very bizarre. And even though I've got daffodils poking through the ground. . .
and hellebores sending up their blooms. . .
and sedum . . .
and ladies mantle already making their appearance. . .
I can't trust that winter is completely lost.
But The Itch has arrived much, much earlier than is typical.
Jenny smells it.
This intrepid pansy thinks it's here.
And the fish* are beginning to be a bit more active in the pond.
I don't think I've ever been out in my garden, actually tending and pruning and cleaning up, this early in the year. But I spent a lovely afternoon out there, doing just that, last Saturday. It was wonderful to get out and get started. But I think it may just make The Itch even more intense. Because it can't really be spring yet.
*If you look closely, you can see all three fish are still hanging in there! Boo is the big white one, Simon is the smaller one with the white face just to the left of Boo, and Garfunkel is black and hanging out just below both Boo's and Simon's noses.