How I Dearly Love Spring!
Everywhere I've lived with real winter, when the snow begins to thaw, and I can switch out sweaters for warm-weather tops, boots for flip-flops, and stop wearing socks to bed, my nefesh soars. For those unfamiliar with the term, nefesh means soul or spirit in Hebrew. Regardless of language, there's something about spring and the emergence of flowers and vibrant greenery that lifts the human spirit. In some parts of the northern hemisphere where winter can last until nearly June, spring is like a balm, a salve that helps the spirit thaw and feel human again.
Here in Texas, the weather teases us unmercifully. In March and sometimes as early as February, warmer temps, as in shorts weather, arrive, and we rush to the nurseries for seeds, colorful plants, and bags of fresh soil, tickling our fancies with dreams of yards that will look like estate botanical gardens tended by a bevy of professional landscapers. And then a cold front barrels through, dropping the temps into the 20s or low 30s, and we watch our beautiful new plantings wilt and die before our tearful eyes. The smart gardeners among us have either started their plantings in seed starter kits inside or in a greenhouse, if they're lucky enough to have one, or patiently wait until the cold fronts stop swooping in and then go buy nursery pretties and plant them when there's no chance of the mercury dropping below 50 degrees.
Me? I've lived the grief of planting too soon, as well as waiting, which had its own drawbacks. Planting radish, carrot, turnip, and other cold-weather veggies too late will often produce woody, hard vegetables that not even the squirrels will eat. As the saying goes, timing is everything.
And then, in my garden, there's my annual battle of the tomatoes. I love fresh tomatoes. Who doesn't? And I adore birds, especially the cardinals, robins, woodpeckers, finches, mockingbirds, doves, grackles, blue jays, and the darling Carolina chickadees who call my yard home. The only problem is that they like tomatoes, too. Hubby put up a couple of bird feeders, a hummingbird feeder, and a platform where he anchors seed cakes that he makes for the birdies. He really goes out of his way to take good care of them, so why do they have to eat MY fresh tomatoes?
Last year I planted just one tomato plant with regular-sized red tomatoes and one with mini yellow pear tomatoes, and guess what I discovered? They weren't terribly interested in the tiny yellow pear tomatoes. They went after the bigger red ones. Now, you're probably wondering why I didn't put netting over the plants to prevent the feathery vertebrates from dining on my precious tomatoes. I did! And they got in there anyway, except that they didn't bother with the mini yellow pear tomatoes. Lesson learned.
Last week, I was at a nursery and saw lots of tomato plants for sale. I walked right past the Celebrity, Roma, Better Boy, Early Girl, Beefsteak, heirlooms, and all the other enticing tomato plants calling to me. At the end of the row, I found scads of mini yellow pear and red cherry tomato plants. I grabbed one of each and planted them in pots when I got home. Why pots, you wonder? So I can keep a close eye on them in case an interloper like a squirrel or bird goes after them. If they do, I'll put together big cages and set them over the pots, and I'll weigh the cages down with heavy rocks on the top. No more poor me playing the victim. Nope. I got this. This summer, I'm going to have more tomatoes than I can use. And maybe, just maybe, I'll put a plate of extras out in the yard for the birds to nosh on. That is if they're nice and don't try to wiggle their way into my cages and decimate my crop.
I sure do love spring.
Till next time,
Jeffree
