Saturday

For a brief second, I worried that spring was moving too fast. Are we already in the last month of this season? How did that happen?!

And then I remembered: spring isn't really a full season here, in Wisconsin. The first month should properly be called "the waiting period," where, to the naked eye, nothing much happens. Spring, too, is the shortest of the four season. We often go from a period of cold air to a brief showing of moderation, then straight to summer. It all can happen in the course of a couple of weeks.

This year is unusual. Our spring is glorious and full -- stretching from early April onwards. I'm not surprised that I fret about its passage: it's been a nearly perfect season!

Morning. It isn't hot, but it's good enough for a breakfast on the porch.






Looking out, looking in. It all looks grand!






I do very little work outdoors in these early hours. Snowdrop, her mom and I have our regular Saturday morning date -- a walk to the downtown farmers market. Here she is, getting ready to head out. Always a little serious when she settles in, deceptively so because I have never known her not to like a stroller excursion.






We're on the square. Her mom checks in on her. The girl's doing fine!






We pause at a farmer friend's table. Asparagus is probably at 25% of the market stalls, but we buy from Matt (Blue Valley farm). George, the guy to the left helps out and he too, is a friend. A writer friend. It's his first in-person encounter with Snowdrop. He smiles down at her.






She smiles right back.






And so we continue.

The day warms and by the time we're back at Snowdrop's home, her sweater is no longer needed. She is eager to play, but I leave her with her parents today. A good grandma is one who knows not to linger every single day.






Besides, I have work to do at the farmette. Ed is already immersed in weed removal.






Scotch sees me and runs along the path now decked with flower petals. Hi Scotch!






I look around. What's blooming today? Well, the newer Icelandic poppies.






And in the rock garden, these guys are up and running.






But my attention is focused on the new flower fields. I weed them and cover them with chips and of course, none of this can be done quickly. Guess why...





And now I am in my gardening mode. I dig, I mulch, I water. I munch on emergent milkweed buds (taste like asparagus!). I plant pole beans, string beans and two types of peas. I finally, finally, put in the nasturtium seeds and, too the cosmos. I don't exactly finish anything (left over plants, seeds, etc). I have too much before me. But I made a dent.

To me, that's all that I can ever hope for -- to make a dent. A beautiful, warm, late springs dent!