Early Spring in the Field

by Tom Hennen

“The crow’s voice filtered through the walls of the farmhouse
makes sounds of a rusty car engine turning over. Clouds on a
north wind that whistles softly and cold. Spruce trees planted
in a line on the south side of the house weave and scrape at the
air. I’ve walked to a far field to a fence line of rocks where I am
surprised to see soft mud this raw day. No new tracks in the
mud, only desiccated grass among the rocks, a bare grove of
trees in the distance, a blue sky thin as an eggshell with a crack
of dark geese running through it, their voices faint and almost
troubled as they disappear in a wedge that has opened at last
the cold heart of winter.”

That wedge of Spring has “opened at last the cold heart of winter” here in the North Country, too. I began morning chores with the usual layers of wool and flannel, but needed none of that for evening chores. That’s progress! Of course, tomorrow is another day, and it may well feel like winter again, but that wedge seems set to get bigger by the day, and I am ready.

Once the last of the snow melts away, our landscape looks rinsed of all color, it’s bleak and frankly depressing. A warm day like today awakens the crocuses, their lovely dots of violet and amethyst peeking out here and there in the washed out expanses of grey and mud brown are just the sort of hopeful sights I long to see after a winter that seems to never end.

We are not entirely free of frost at night quite yet, but tomorrow I will sow snap peas, kale, and beets directly into the raised beds. Sometime this week, I’ll haul out the seeding trays and start that process, too. The best part of winter’s end, after all, is that it allows for the beginning of this year’s new garden.