No Restful Garden

It was another sunny Saturday. 65 degrees. From the warm windowed kitchen, while eating my eggs, I watched the birds in late morning. A Carolina Wren darted after little winged insects. The bluebird couple perched on lookout. I sensed Spring, even if premature, I sensed it and decided to inspect the sleeping garden. Later, after turning the compost and discovering more bugs, I took the pitchfork and long fork into the garden. The beds were soft, easily scratched. Mine was no restful garden. Here too, the insects were active, the worms were active. I became active. First turning in the winter leaves, then straitening the borders, then plucking the exposed stones, and finally trimming back last years young fig tree. I’ll look through my seed catalogue tonight, review last year’s journal and begin designing the layout for the upcoming seasons. Green will be here soon.