I am always hopeful for an early spring. I do love our Montana winters but some time in late February the poo brown, schlopy wetness starts to fry my will. Especially this year when I am not out on epic ski adventures.
I ordered my seeds and they came and I arranged to borrow a corner in my friend’s greenhouse. I plan to start my seeds this weekend. I am getting chickens in two weeks and I think I guilted, ahem talked, my man into helping with the hen castle.
I have been poking at the bare earth and feeling like I could perhaps wedge some pea seeds down in there….but then this morning, I woke up to a beautiful and serene world that shattered my dreams of green lushness. There was an exhibit at MAM a few years back by a Swedish artist, Gerd Aurell, called Montana is a Harsh Mistress. Yup.
I mean, it is March and I do live in Montana. And I know I am being dramatic because this was hardly a *storm*. But still. This girl is ready for the sun rising early and setting late, jumping in a river and momentarily losing her breath to the glacial cold, flip flops, earthworms and freckles.
