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Witnessing the return of an old friend
|By LYNDA JENSEN|
Minding my own business as usual I walked past my flower garden and was very surprised to see it nearly free of snow.
It was the last thing I was thinking of, and it occurred to me that we were in the middle of a genuine Minnesota Spring.
Definition of a Minnesota Spring: warm, snow. Warm again, ice storm blast, then really muddy. Reluctantly, the winter recedes, and you foolishly plant something (even after Mother’s Day). It gets killed by frost or whatever.
You plant again. Then, it’s spring.
In fact, I had about 18 geraniums bite the dust last year that I planted for my mother in law, and it bugged me to spend the energy, only to have theMinnesota Spring get to them.
But part of the fun is how unpredictable nature is, right?
“Bring in the spring,” I always say. I joked last week that I’d print a story about spring, but I didn’t want to end up printing a correction about it.
This year, I’m planning to plant some vegetables. I’m terrible at them, and my husband pointed this out, but as I’ve said before, I’ve never let simple facts get in my way when it comes to a grand project or crazy idea.
So, I plan to hit the dirt like a ton of bricks and plant tomatoes, peppers and maybe even potatoes.
I’ll be munching fresh vegetables in the fall.
Here’s some interesting things I noticed this week.
One was a bumper sticker that read “Pro choice is a lie. A baby doesn’t choose to die.” Of course you know by now that I agree with this wholeheartedly.
The other was this snippet:
Definition of maturity
Maturity is the ability to do a job whether you’re supervised or not; finish a job once it’s started, carry money without spending it, and last, but not least, the ability to bear an injustice without wanting to get even.