Holy snowmelt, Batman! It doesn’t look a lot like spring in Neihart, Montana, but it does in other sections of the state. Sigh. Everyone thinks spring is such a great thing; all about butterflies and flowers and rainbows and such, but in the Bustling Burg of Babbling Brooks, its all about slush, mud, cold, grey and interminable days. And for this little landscaper, spring means work down in the flatlands, even when in the mountains we’re still sleepy. Today I took delivery on my tractor-trailer load of plants, and then I started panning out across the big city, primping and cleaning up gardens, just as though I was a working person. And by that I mean a working person who expects to get paid for her work. I’ve been working and working and working all winter long, but only on things I paid other people to do, which they didn’t. Of course taking delivery on my plant order is only step one, because even in the Big City the average date of the last frost isn’t for a few weeks Continue reading
Spring hasn’t sprung yet in the Bustling Burg of Babbling Brooks, it just sort of made a phase transition from semi-solid to semi-liquid. The technical term for that would be: mush. During the day there has been a strange, not-gray pallor to the sky – unseen for months and months – and a frightening, butterscotchy, glowing thing suspended in it, which has been slowly eating up the snow and causing minor rivers to erupt all over the roads. Not only that, but our daily ration of snowfall has been temporarily suspended. I wonder if this is the beginning of the end? Was Chicken Little right? Did Oliver Twist ask for “more” one time too many?
My woodsy path to town has been utterly transformed, with long-buried features being disgorged by the snow and confusing all Continue reading