All around us children are being shuffled about to baseball and lacrosse, Stouffer’s Cuisine just saw a 42% jump in share prices, and people are inexplicably nice to you at the supermarket. Either there is something in the water, or the heady promise of spring is starting to work its seasonal magic on the masses.
After months of wearily scraping ice off the windshield with whatever we have on hand – including a discarded plastic spoon or our children’s homework folder – the greater populace is ready for a large pay-off and is willing to accept all forms of currency, whether balmy temperatures, flowering trees, great swaths of daffodils, or indeed, fantastic deals on unnecessary plastic objects at our favorite retailer.
I’d be happy to settle for far less…such as a few signs that my garden managed to survive a heartless summer and a vindictive winter.
Up until last week, I have averted my eyes as I trudged down to the basement for yet another bag of pellets and a jar or two of applesauce. Over the icy months of winter I’ve walked past freeze-dried ligustrum and tried to ignore strawberries heaved out of the soil. I’ve remained emotionally impervious to browned Thujas and a snow-broken Ilex well past its sell-by date. But the day has come to stand and face the music. Beds must be readied, shrubs must be pruned, and yes, I’m going to have to deal with a little more in the loss department than I did last year. Well, as Nietzsche once said upon inspecting his winter ravaged rose bed in early spring, “What doesn’t destroy me makes me stronger.”