I planted today. I had turned the beds earlier last week on a sunny day near 80°s. It felt so good to be outdoors working in the sunshine. I was sweaty and had to stop and rest now and then but I felt so alive! I never really feel alive until Spring comes along. I am like a Daffodil bulb resting in the earth, soaking up the winter rains and snowmelts enough to survive. They prepare me for the time when the sun will finally shine and the earth will warm and I can come out again to do what I am meant to do. Most of the time for me winter is somthing to be survived, tolerated, not enjoyed.

It was cold and windy this morning and rain threatened, yet I planted. Poking the peas down into the cold soil happily. Sprinkling the tiny lettuce seeds in the fairly straight rows I had just marked and then patting them into the earth. My hair was blowing all over the place and my fingers were almost numb but all was well with the world... at least at that moment in my mind.

It's raining now with a warm up to follow in a few days. I can almost see those little wrinly peas sprouting and reaching up toward the warm above... Busting through the thin crust at the very top into the sunshine. I'll bet they'd shout "Hallelujah! Spring is here!" ...if sprouts could shout.

I wonder if I would appreciate Spring (and life) so much if there was never winter. I wonder if I would appreciate God so much if my soul never experienced winter.