So Close to Spring...

The Dogs are ready for spring. I can tell they are getting the itch to roam the woods and fields, and so am I! The peepers were not singing last weekend, but the daffodils were poking green spires through the leaves of the forest floor, so I deem that enough of a sign that nature is waking up and it will not be long until we are enjoying grilling on the porch and planting all around Dog Days. I am so thankful for the small signs, as I am still traumatized from the powerful winter that roared through the entire Mid-Atlantic.

Barb and Mia recently spent a few days with us and helped out on the first forest permaculture planting. Three thousand seeds later, I really owed them a nice dinner at Oddfella's Cantina in Floyd. We were lucky to enjoy live music and a great meal; I love to go to a local eatery that has so many things on the menu that I want to eat that it is really hard to choose just one thing. I find myself trying to convince everyone else at the table to order the other menu items I want so I can sneak bites...

The deer have destroyed every bit of shrubbery we have; they know they are much faster than the dogs, so no longer even bother to feign fear or muster a decent run. I used to like the hooved ruminants, but just having a love of vegetables in common is no longer enough to keep me from resenting their locust-like qualities. I may change my policy of live and let live if they push it much further. I can deal with the loss of the ewes, nandina, holly and such, but if they put one pointy toe near my tomatoes, they will truly incur my wrath. I do have my limits!

The wood stove will soon (hopefully) get cleaned out for the last time; I have to admit I will miss being able to lay by it and snuggle with the dogs. There is no better kind of warm than the one that a wood stove makes, except maybe for the warm that you feel when there is a puppy next to you. They are so sweet when they sleep; the rest of the time they can make you a little crazy, but while sleeping, there is nothing more precious.

The last sign that spring is near; my garage smells faintly of onions. Bags of red, white and yellow onion sets are in there waiting to be planted in the next couple of weeks as soon as the ground can be properly tilled. They are in their cool, dry place until the field is dry enough to get the tiller through without bogging down. I will do my best not to try too early, but with my usual patience of a Muppet on crack, someone may be rescuing me from myself and the tiller from the mud.