As I write this it’s nearly mid-May. The days are warming because I live in the northern hemisphere of the planet Earth. If I lived in the southern hemisphere the days would be getting shorter and colder. I am so very happy to live in the northern half of Mother Earth. Of course, check back with me in mid-November and I will be looking for a cheap ticket to fly to the southern hemisphere where temperatures will be bone chilling here and just beginning to warm up down south. I’m talking really, really far down south. As the days warm up they also get a few minutes longer. I am in love with longer, warmer days. Yes, I know it is not something I am supposed to do. Be in love with something that makes no sense to be in love with. But since I am a girl I am allowed to state the lovely fact that I am in love with longer, warmer days. Sometimes it works to my advantage to be a girl. Let’s saunter on our merry way. As spring reaches full swing, outside becomes more important to me. I see it this way. In springtime I’m outside doing all the things that February, in all its wintery glory, dangled in front of me, like a big orange carrot on a frayed ice covered frozen string. Well, I am just about to take a big ole bite out of that dangling carrot. Spring has put a wonderful bounce in my step so I’m biting and gnawing myself forward. That carrot is close enough to take a chomp at. Just about. I was in “the city” a few days ago and at many stores, even the grocery stores, wonderfully colorful and sniffy bedding plants are appearing. Oh, be still my heart. I wanted petunias and marigolds and, and, and… But! Yes, I had to hold back my flowering “but!” Even though the sun was bright and the pinks and purples and reds and yellows were nearly florescent I covered my eyes and hurried by. Saying to myself, “Don’t look Trina. Don’t look.” I have, in years past, been sucked into the vortex of buying a delightful array of spring plants a little too soon. Just to see those delightfully breathtaking goodies of spring turn up their leaves when the temperatures in my neck of the woods dip well below hot house desires. It is a right of passage for younger gardeners to buy the pretty little plants. I mean the store managers must know when it is “safe” to plant right? Why else would they dangle these “carrots on a string” out in in front of us in flat after flat of color and heady aromas? Over the years I have been known to bring home a few, OK a bunch, OK, OK I filled the back of my truck with bedding plants just to store them on the washing machine, kitchen counter or in the garage until all freeze warnings have past. Then plant all the little ones on warm spring days and smiles were seen on my face and those of anyone who stopped by. Then as the night falls and the mercury dips dangerously close to 32 degrees, I have covered all my “babies.” It’s just what we do right? I have learned in the past by raising baby animals and these tiny precious plants that I bring home year after year, some of them make it and some of them don’t. And that, my friends, is why each week of spring and early summer the stores put out new arrivals of nursery stock ablaze with color. Look happily and longingly upon the petunias of white with red stripes, the vibrant reds of begonias, the eye popping pink of the inpatients, the he loves me he loves me not pedals of the daisies, the bee inviting oranges and yellows of marigolds and all the greenery that surrounds you as you walk up and down the water splashed isles of the nurseries. Buy with abandon. Enjoy all things of spring and summer. Keep moving forward. That carrot is there, just dangling in front of us all. The good thing about that? Well, come on at least it’s not a turnip! Or an egg plant. Or okra! Trina Machacek lives in Eureka. Her new book, They Call Me Weener is available on Amazon.com or email her at itybytrina@yahoo.com to find out how to get a signed copy.
