Greetings, my favorite new sub! Like the bulbs of tulips, I've decided to emerge from my place of busy lurking. Here in Olde Plymouth, I'm thinking of Mayflowers and May flowers. Surely the pilgrims were desperate to come ashore, for why else would they have settled here? Ah, New England in early spring. It's the time of year I dread most. Pining, hurting, NEEDING for some warm rays and longer days. Smiles are nearly as scarce as the warm sunlight. A few pleasant days so far this year have allowed me the time to put in a couple more raised beds (found an intriguing source for locally milled black locust) but today they sit, unplanted still. The nurseries have cleared out space and set up shelves that will soon be bulging with seedlings, yet those empty ledges, too, seem to mock my gray mood. It is fourty degrees and pea soup today. Mix of rain and snow for the next few days... Highs in the thirties... The kind of weather that soaks through to my bones. My dethatching rake still hangs where I left it last fall. The brief outburst of crocus blooms now stand huddled, sagging in the damp cold like so many commuters shivering at the train station. Ah, New England, I await your glorious spring. I long to plunge my fingers into your sandy soil.

Today I'm thinking about boysenberries for one of the new beds maybe. Perhaps strawberries. While ive decided to dedicate the other new bed to Tomatoes, the plans for my old, trusty, long vegetable garden are still swirling in my head... Trellised snap and shell peas could have gone in already I suppose, but I haven't decided where and how many Butternuts and Crooknecks to plant. Dear Danvers Carrots, beloved Cherrybell Radishes, my friendly Bunching Onions, I know... I feel like I'm running late. Beautiful beets, I'm dying for your crimson sprouts to meet the sky.

So, sincere greetings my dear new friends, however forlorn they may be. I'm genuine in my hope to find more and more of the same from this cheerful sub. And to my fellow New Englanders, hold fast! Our champion, Spring, may be late but she'll surely come, and when she does, we will be once again loving and boasting of our Northeastern home!

Donkey.