The Peaceable Kingdom

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JAN-FEB

"Through the probable winter to the impossible spring . . . " *

. . . that's one of those head echoes from a favorite poem that, just now, seems to me to say it all. Spring? Soon it will seem possible. Then we'll be carting manure and mucking out the pig pen and making rows and planting trees. Still planting? Oh, always. Every year we plant trees.

Will we be too busy to absorb the spring, to experience it? (Granted, spring's impossible, but—well, last year it came). There's the transplanting we didn't finish in the fall, seed starting, pruning of grapevines and fruit trees, rototilling, stake cutting. No one tells us that we haff to do any of these things, though. It's what we chose, and so there's satisfaction in knowing what needs doing, and getting down to it on just the right day.

A March blizzard? It can't last (we always say.) So we spread newspapers on the kitchen counter, get out the flats, the planting mixtures, the hopeful seed packets, the old forks. And plant seeds. Some things we start very early indoors, late in February . . . the peppers—for they're slow—and the early cabbage, broccoli and tomatoes. In March we plant flats of late tomatoes, flowers, lettuce and the oddies (asparagus seed and Baron Solemacher runnerless strawberries this year) we couldn't resist in the seed catalogues.

Soon all the old, well-marked windowsills are full of starter flats and pots and the cats have trouble finding a spot with a view. Greg found one of those cozy, cowl-like cat baskets in curbside trash and brought it home . . . but we might as well store potatoes in it for our cats still prefer a sill. Any dried arrangements I put in one of the few windows unsuitable for growing plants must allow a large blank space for curled-up cat.

If we have a sunny day in March when the ground is open and the west wind not too fierce, we transplant things like the peach tree we put too close to the corn patch, the fig trees that need a more protected spot, the seedling mulberries we want to put in the hen yard, the raspberry suckers we'll use to fill gaps in the row. When we first came here, we studied our acre as best we could, and planted a LOT, right away. Things unfold, though. Vagaries of wind become apparent. The birds drop things for us. We'll probably still be transplanting next year.

We get in to Lancaster from time to time. An old city, full of flavor. It has alleys and secret places and courtyards and old marble steps and two farmers' markets. It also has one of our favorite discoveries of the year . . . Body and Soul Natural Foods Store. With our own meat, vegetables, eggs and milk, there's not much we need at stores. When we do go, we like to buy at a people place like Body and Soul.

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