(Most) Memes Don't Lie

So there’s this meme going around that references the many New England seasons. The terms used to describe each variation of season, add a levity to what us natives grind through annually. Hell’s Front Porch, False Fall, Second Summer, Fools Spring, etc. Though we pride ourselves on tactical layering, and weather preparedness it can wear down even the snuggliest of snow bunny’s. Absolute Unpredictability is the only season we can truly rely on, and I assure you that we are in The Spring of Deception.

With this reliabilty of unpredictability also comes opportunity. A gentle reminder of what’s upon us. The light and color waiting in the shadow of winters wings. A chance for something new.

If your something new doesn’t happen to take place in the garden, reach out and schedule a walk through. We’ll use this time between now and The Third Winter, to prep and plan for a stress-free summer full of many New England seasons. All to be enjoyed on your beautifully landscaped lawn.

While The Spring of Deception is a nice precursor to itself, the most important conclusion to draw from natures warning shot, is to stock up on your allergy meds. The Pollening is near.

Healing

So much and not enough has happened since I last checked in. As with the rest of the universe, Covid 19 put our world in a tail spin. Into the washing machine we went, turning and tumbling until we were a misshapen form of what we once knew as normal. Knowing that all our struggles are real, I’ll refrain from the diatribe that was our Spring season of sickness and separation. Instead I will use this, as Spring so easily allows me to do, as a restart, refresh, reboot of what it feels like to start anew. We are grateful beyond measure for our friends and family lending a helping hand when it was safe and sensible to do so and we have a soft spot in our hearts for our customers who were oh so patient with us!

In a seasonal business we are used to nature dictating our livelihood and the ever changing way of things, and last year was no different. Another season behind and a new one ahead. God, I love that New England gives us this gift every 3 months (or thereabouts). An environmental shift to remind us that we may need in an internal one as well. Cheers to health, happiness, and the continued willingness to let the healing flow.

Home Remedy

It’s April, in New England, and it’s gloomy. Typical. It’s April, in New England, and it’s gloomy AND we are in an extended period of quarantine because of a world wide pandemic. NOT typical.

I don’t know if today was your down day, but I’ve recently had a few. To combat my stuffed doll syndrome, I will revel in last year’s spoils. The comfort of the my old reliables, and the excitement of new varieties are triggered when I reflect on the adventures of last year’s harvest.

Endless remedies lay behind the garden gate.

Spring Song

The symphony of Spring flows with purpose. Carefully, she picks and chooses her next note, as if conducting an orchestra of earths instruments. With each flick of the baton a new chord is struck, adding to the melody in the composition of the season.

The call of the songbird whispers in my ear… meep, meep - wake up, it’s near!

Geese glide closer, with their low, slow, honks vibrating in the sky. Snow-melt bubbles and babbles over chilly stones and sticks, loosening winters grasp on the river bed below. Former frost heaves, now hollowed shells suspended in mid air, crunching and cracking beneath our feet. The moisture once binding them now dappling the breeze with the rich scent of soil. Dew drops plink and plunk on tiny, bursting buds. Dusk brings in our frog friends and sweet peeps ring from the forests edge. A jingling courtship, a lullaby of love cloaking the night sky. Earths instruments in natural harmony.

Song was born in nature, song was born in Spring.

The Sow Must Go On

Weird times, for sure. Nothing we can’t handle though, as long as we keep our heads right, right?

Coronavirus is laying it’s claim over the country and we are forced to adapt. We quietly tuck ourselves into our nooks, backing away slowly while fighting our natural instincts to turn and run, Forest, run. So many variables, so many challenges, so many changes. While I do what I can, to the capacity that I can, I am mindful of what I am rooted in and rooting in while I ride this out. I truly hope you are all finding solid ground.

And so, I sow…

Message in a Bottle

I woke up a little uneasy, thinking - (gasp) what did I do? Fear, uncertainty, embarrassment. Who the hell wants to look at pictures of my plants and hear me talk about them? Well, that didn’t take long for fear to creep in!

Since my regularly scheduled work meeting with my father typically takes place at a pub (Caronavirus shrapnel), we were forced to bring our St Patty’s Day soda pop to the beach, poor us. The drilling business is not an easy one so these reprieves are absolutely necessary for our mental health.

It’s always an adventure with Dad and this time was no different. We forgot a bottle opener for our soda pops and needed a solution, stat. We scoped the shore line and eyed the sand dunes for a comparable solution, when we happened upon a metal stake. As he MacGyver’s off the cap, I spot an aged bottle buried in the sand. Of course as any hopeless romantic would assume, it’s a message in a bottle! My mind spirals to years past, forbidden lovers, unspoken heartbreak.

It was a message alright, one specifically meant for me.

There inside, sprouting up from it’s interior layer of sand was a strong healthy stem, topped with glistening, green leaves.

What a strange place to grow. Maybe uncomfortable or could be cozy, but growing nonetheless.

Germination

Recently, I have been unable to scratch a particular itch. Reaching to relieve it only to have it move to a more annoying part of my body is the best way I can most accurately describe my attempts at some recent soul searching.

As someone who is much more content with my head in the soil talking to my plant pals, diving into the uncomfortably unknown world of blogging (cringe) is nothing short of horrifying. But then there’s life; always there lurking in the wings waiting to throw a revelatory right hook. A force of nature that makes you turn your head in a direction you didn’t know you needed to look.

Time and time again life is right as long as we’re listening. Much more pain exists when our natural instincts are suppressed, especially when thwarted by fear. Faith is the enemy of fear so it is with faith I take the leap into the unknown. In hopes of finally scratching that itch.

I hope to convey, simply and honestly, why I love all things plant. Maybe share a few stories and experiences, without being too bloggy of course.

Maybe a seed or two will germinate with you. Either way, I’m excited to see how things grow.