Spring is the busiest time of year on the farm, I have discovered. It is followed closely by harvest in the fall, but Spring takes the cake since it requires so much planning and foresight. My husband is already chomping at the bit to get some things planted and growing. He's got seedlings germinating under lights in the basement; he's drawing up layouts and plans for three garden plots we have going. He's been monitoring the conditions in the greenhouse. It is usually unheard of to plant vegetables in late February, but he's convinced that we could actually get some peas to come to fruition in May if we hurry up and plant them now. He's like a man possessed, when it comes to the garden. And he is forever throwing out new (read: crazy) ideas that he wants to run with. I say crazy, because that is genuinely how I view these new ideas when he's throwing them at me. However, I am learning that the crazy ideas he comes up with are sometimes actually good ideas; my perspectives are often colored by the cynicism that comes with a lot of formal education.
I think I might be a snob. Not in a mean-girl-in-high-school kind of way. But the kind that dismisses ideas that aren't my own without giving them careful thought and foresight. This is my gravest weakness, and I am surprised by how often I catch myself doing that.
I am proud of my worldliness; proud of the good education I received from my institution of higher learning. I am well-read and pretty dang good at trivia. So I have a tendency to filter information in my head and categorize it instantly into a logical place in my brain. Often my very first filter weeds out "things I think are good" with "things I think are bad" and once banished, those bad ideas are never considered again.
But at the very least, this marriage has yielded two things: a charming collection of miniature personalities who stretch the limits of my patience and logic, and the ability to admit (gulp!) that I might be wrong sometimes. I came to this farm life kicking and screaming, so to speak. I could not imagine why in the world anyone would spend time digging in the dirt, watering plants endlessly, harvesting them painfully, and then preparing them for consumption when there was a lovely corner grocery full of pre-packaged meals just waiting to be heated up in the microwave.
But I was wrong. And when I finally caved in and let myself be led instead of trying desperately to lead, the world I thought I already saw pretty clearly, opened up and expanded and showed me how limited my vision actually was. This year, I find myself longing for Spring, And for more than just warmer weather and longer days...this year my Spring is about the regeneration of the growing things that keep our little family going. Mark Twain said it best: "It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!"
