It's spring (really...sort of...kind of...). The weather is getting warmer (not really...well maybe a little...I guess...). The snow is gone, the ground is mushy, it's time to dig. I need to plant. I pant...to plant.

The plans are made. The plants are ordered. They aren't here yet... I ought to call; but if they were here, I'd have to put them somewhere. I'd love to have them here--but they'd have to be inside.

It's still freezing at night (but I don't even wear a jacket during the day....). I'll hold off a little longer. It's still too cold at night. Man, look at those bulbs blooming in the sun. What's wrong with the rest of these plants that I can't plant earlier? Even some of the spring perennials are showing themselves--a few cradling buds in their unfolding leaves.

I wish they were here. Why don't these rookies just suck it up and let me stick them in the ground? It's too early...there are already flats of seedlings on the floor in the nursery (as cool as I can get it inside). Weird...it's too warm for them in there, but too cold outside.

What would I do if all the things I ordered were here? Inside they'd bolt...grow fast and soft and sickly. Outside they'd be mush in the morning.

Come on Mother N. Dance with me.

Warm the earth. Release the frost from its prison in the soil. I'm not asking for the world. Forty-five at night would be great.

Let me work.

Let me dig.

Let me plant.