Gardening Together

As I mentioned lately, I'm confused about what season we're supposed to be in right now. Is it still Winter? Have we suddenly jumped to Summer? Is it Spring, or should I say, "Mud Season"? Whatever this season, it's got me excited to start thinking about planting. 


When I stepped outside to survey possible planting areas and began to remove dead leaves and pine needles, there are bright green fragrant creatures making their way forth. Sofia must have sensed my excitement, because she eagerly wanted to join in and help me uncover unknown treasures beneath the debris. 

So now I've changed my plan to wait patiently and see what this house's former residents left for us to enjoy. Not only am I gardening with Sofia, it is as if I am gardening along side this house's former tenants. So far, I've sniffed out what I think are some green onions, parsley, and peppers. In various spots, springing up from the grass, I've discovered these gorgeous flowers:

I can't wait to see what all will spring up in the next few months! 

Spring?

Growing up in Texas, we basically had one season, Summer. Then in California, we had one season, Spring. Moving to Maine, I was warned that we had two seasons, "Winter and August." Fortunately, I have found this not to be the case. I've been documenting each of the four seasons evolve out my window:

Summer

Fall

Winter

???

"Spring" you say? Certainly that's what I would have thought. But I've been told that here, it is called "Mud Season." This is even posted around state signs at parks, "During Mud Season, . . . " Mud Season being the time when the snow is melting and over-saturating the ground, so that everything is squishy and a bit unstable. 


I have found this squishiness to be true, but I have also felt some days lately that have felt like summer. I even saw 88 degree temperatures the other day. And yet, it has dropped back down to the 30's, and as I'm writing this, I see snow flurries out my window. Basically, I'm confused. Now I understand why people in this part of the country spend a great deal of time paying attention to weather reports, because you can't just trust today as an indicator of what things will be like tomorrow. I'll let you infer your own profound metaphors from that observation.  

Whatever this season is supposed to be, it is beautiful. And it inspires Sofia and I to dance for joy.