For a while there it looked like spring, but today is back down in the 30s. This happens every year, yet we always act surprised and disappointed. I don't care--I still dug out the seed box and sorted through the packets, taking note of what I need to buy. Anticipating that yearly miracle: life sprouting from tiny clods of earth, growing into plants that will nourish and fuel our bodies. This year is extra special, as Mazin will be eating these plants with us! I hear kids don't get picky until around two, so I'm looking forward to feeding him lots of kale, broccoli, and turnips. (Who knows, it could be another decade before he deigns to eat them again.) Not sure how the gardening will go this year... I have visions of a happy Mazin babbling away on my back as I stoop to thin the carrots, yet I know the reality of squatting repeatedly wearing an extra 20 pounds. I also envision setting up the pack-and-play next to the row I'm hoeing, singing garden-themed songs to my imprisoned son. (Funny how blackflies never figure in your daydreams.) We'll see how my fantasies play out. I know for certain we'll be scaling back this year. I'm learning what I can and cannot do with a new passenger along for the ride. In the category of "can do," see adjacent photo!
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