Daddodils Make Me Enormously Happy

This week, the first spring flowers blossomed, golden daffodils right near the house. I came down to breakfast Wednesday and there they were: a clump of them trumpets fully open just outside the dining room windows on the little hill there just against the house. They made me smile. They’re pretty but more important, a sign of spring even though it’s chilly. Spring is here and Woody is preparing to plant spinach this weekend. He had already prepared the ground, but  it was about to rain, hard. He had to postpone planting. He also had an all day WOMR planning meeting Saturday. I’ll watch some races, do some mending, watch a movie Woody isn’t interested in.  We have very different tastes in what what we like to watch. We try go find compromises on Netflix.

Wednesday, I had lavage for my blocked ears [lah-vahj]. It’s unpleasant and takes the rest of the day for me to recover, but now I hear much, much better. I have extra long ear canals and they get filled with impacted wax [more than you ever wanted to know about me]. It felt unpleasant before, as if someone were pushing something into my ears. Now I no longer have to pester Woody, what did he say? I can hear again! As Bette Davis said “Getting old aint for sissies.” Lavage itself is hard to endure, leaving me exhausted, but well worth it. The P.A. said it was her favorite procedure, the only one where people walk in with a problem and leave with it fixed.

I started six kinds of maincrop tomatoes this week – two reds, two yellows, one pink and Black Krims. That’s an heirloom, my favorite eating tomato. The paste tomatoes all germinated and sit in the bay window. The cats really hate when I start tender seeds. Those seedlings have to go in the bay window till it’s safe to bring them out to the greenhouse, where hardy vegetables go as soon as they pop.  Now the cats’ favorite sunning space has been invaded by eggplant seedlings, pepper seedlings, marjoram, summer savory. Is it any wonder they prefer mice to vegetables?

I have many household tasks to carry out, as well as garden work soon. I neglected almost everything while I was pushing ahead on the revisions to THE HOUR OF MY DEATH. This Sunday, I want to put away the flannel sheets and bring out the percale sheets. The last two nights, I have wakened in the middle of the night too warm. My office is a mess even for me. Once I have that in order, then on to the bedroom. I’ve already been working on the living room where much piled up especially when I couldn’t read with my eyes on fire.

I love spring.  It’s my favorite season, a season of hope. Even though fall is the time of dying, I like it second best for the amazing fall color here in New England.  

I enjoy the long slow Cape spring. I grew up in Detroit where my father used to joke there were two seasons, winter and the 4th of July. When I lived in San Francisco, I missed seasons. Without a true winter, spring means little. I like to savor every little advance: now you can see buds swelling, now the birds that in their plumage. Now the first purple crocus opens. Now the red winged blackbird flocks arrive and all the males congregate. They always seem to be having a two or three day convention on our land. It’s loud and boisterous but another sign of early spring.