Funny how some things take forever (waiting on acceptance or rejection responses from literary magazines, my ever-slowly increasing savings account, the arrival of food in a favorite restaurant) and some go so quickly. I am reminded of an NPR story recently where they asked older people and younger people to accurately judge when a minute had passed (or maybe it was 90 seconds. I was driving. And completely paying attention to the road). The older the participants were, the worse they did. Time actually seemed to pass more quickly.
It seems silly to be thinking about the garden when there is 20” of unmelting snow in the backyard, with another 7-10” expected tonight, but, if you think about it, it is almost the middle of February. Which means it is almost March. Which means we should be thinking about digging up some of the hill in the backyard and assembling the raised bed and hauling in soil so that we are ready in time.
Because time passes quickly for two old fogies like A and myself. Before we know it, it will be time to have a basement full of seeds sprouting under shop lights (and for nightly prayers that Lucy does not eat them).
The older I get, I can feel this time difference with seasons. It seems as if it was just summer, and we were making weekend meals with vegetables from A’s garden. And now, winter will be over (soon) and before I can take a breath, we will be knee deep in green beans and tomatoes and zucchini. I will be picking and canning and making fritters.
It is these things I will think about when I am shoveling the latest batch of snow—tomatoes, basil and mozzarella, zucchini pie, and my imperative 2010 garden selection: the Sugar Ann snap pea. It is a miniature snap pea, and, well, anything tiny is cute, and cute equals good, right?
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