Mangy Moose turns 34 tomorrow. And, I'm not talkin' about the mother moose that keeps visiting us. I'm talking about that mother of Amazing Grace who posts on her (www.mangymooseacres.blogspot.com) every week day. Please note on your "things to do" list to check in on Mangy Moose tomorrow and wish her a happy birthday.
Every birthday is meaningful to Mangy Moose aka Jenny. She's one tough cookie, a cancer survivor.
Every time she celebrates another birthday, her family is happy, especially her amazing daughter Grace who's now a first grader. Mangy Moose hoped to live long enough to go hand-in-hand with Amazing Grace to the kindergarten door.
She did.
And, since then, Mangy Moose and Amazing Grace have gone hand in hand to the first-grade door.
My dear friend and hero, Mangy Moose, ordered her garden seeds a week or so ago----little late if yer asking me, but knowing her Type A competitiveness, she'll catch up and surpass me in the gardening department just like she did with her cookies at the fair last fall. I don't mind though; I'm happy to concede defeat to Mangy Moose cuz each time I do, that's a victory for her and for all who love and admire her.
And, speaking of gardening, I can speak of spring this morning. The lay of the land doesn't support its gradual appearance, but lots of other small signs are popping up in advance of those crocuses, which don't stand a chance in Selle of showing their face for some time.
But . . .
I can see tops of fenceposts. I shut the barnyard gate without pulling arm muscles this morning. The newspaper was IN the paperbox WITHOUT a plastic protective bag. The satellite dish that I dug out last Thursday now shows at least a foot of its stand above the snow.
The snow is melting but freezing at night, necessitating extra care with each footstep, but the dogs are thrilled. They were racing across the yard and into the fields this morning on top of the snow, acting like giddy canines who'd just been released from prison. They won't be able to do that all day, but it's good morning fun for dogs.
Yesterday I used the snow for a table. Just stood out there in the driveway, with just a sweater, and placed my potting trays on a shelf scooped out of the snowbank by hand. That way I could breathe that fresh early spring air, listen to the chickadees and pour potting soil into the pots without worrying about it slipping over the sides and making a mess.
This morning the dusty outline of those long rectangular trays frames a solid white snowbank still life. That's the closest to art I'll ever get, but I can take satisfaction in the fact that watermelon, cantaloupe, marigold, golden daisy, tomato and California bell pepper seed has found its home for the next couple of months. All that seed awaits the moment of sprout and growth and great care.
I've got new routines this morning as I go to the living room window and the garden window to hold my hand over the glass, gently allowing the water to drip to the potting soil. Those pots I planted last week now have little green critters reaching upward for their daily drink and dose of light from the window.
Yup, nice little, welcome signs of spring. We'll take 'em.
I'm sure they'll multiply by the day, emerging powerfully from above and from beneath those white blankets that have protected them and kept them in check for the past several months.
And, as they do, moods will improve with the feeling of exhilaration that, at long last, we can begin anew and that we can celebrate, with Mangy Moose, another great season of life.
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