
This last week of gorgeous spring weather has certainly brought out the crowds at the garden centers and home improvement stores. When I visited last weekend, carts full of geraniums, tomatoes, and other tender annuals were lined up at the checkout.
Today, the forecast is for snow. It was 30 degrees when I got up this morning. There was frost on the parked cars. As I type, big flakes are softly landing on the freshly turned soil out my window. I wondered how many of the people I’d seen at the store had gone home and planted their flowers, only to find them blackened after the sub-freezing night.



Today is Arbor Day, the traditional day for planting trees. Most of us treasure trees. Planting one is an act of faith, something we do for our children, and perhaps our grandchildren. Sadly, thousands of our nation’s trees now reaching maturity are destined to an early death. They were doomed the day they were planted.
It’s spring. I’ve been digging in the garden—at least between snow storms. My back muscles (and knees and shoulders) ache, there’s dirt under my broken fingernails, and a huge smile on my face. In fact, there’s dirt in my teeth—I’ve been pulling weeds and shaking the soil off their roots before piling them into the compost bucket, and I keep forgetting to close my lips.
Tomorrow is Good Friday, the day Jesus wore a crown of thorns. In visualizing that painful headpiece, it helps me to think about the sharp spikes on the plant with the same name.
You’re gotten your test results back from the soil lab, telling you to add some organic matter. What’s the best thing to add?
It’s spring. Bulbs are blooming, birds are singing, and feed stores have fluffy yellow baby chicks!