This weekend Indianapolis suffered through another snowstorm, followed by temperatures in the single digits. In fact, local meteorologists have proudly pointed out (as if they’ve had something to do with it) that this has been the snowiest winter on record.
I believe it because I am snowed out. I’m done. I’m over it.
I am ready for spring. I’m ready for sunshine and green things growing. I’m ready to see the trees bud and bulbs push their way up from the ground. I’m ready to work in my garden with my dirt encrusted fingers. And most of all, I am ready for winter to be over.
Sadly, I am also at the point where I suspect that winter will never end; that we are doomed to live in some fantasy world of cold and damp forever. FOREVER. (And I truly hope you said that last ‘forever’ in your best Squints Palledorous voice from The Sandlot.)
There is a small glimmer of hope still left within my frozen heart. Eight biodegradable pots sit under the grow-lights in a makeshift green house my husband has installed in our living room. In those pots are tiny heirloom red acre cabbage seeds.
For seven days they have sat under the lights, gathering their courage, preparing themselves. For seven days my family has carefully watched them, looking for any sign of life.
Finally, this morning during one of my numerous inspections, I spotted two tiny sprouts that have pushed their way up through the soil.
Living things. Growing things. In my living room. Surely this is a sign. An announcement of warmer days to come. A signal that the dormant and freezing cold is over.