home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
Monster Media 1993 #2
/
Image.iso
/
magazine
/
s_m0693.zip
/
S&M-03
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1993-05-30
|
3KB
|
54 lines
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░Spring░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░by David Winer
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
Today, 25 April, is the beginning of spring. The real thing
this time. What's my authority? It happens every year,
regardless of other, false, means of determining spring: My wife
entices me into the yard to assist in some minor chore and we
get so caught up in the operation that we plunge into a whole
afternoon of gardening. That's how to tell when it's really
spring.
Oh, I suppose there are other reasonably valid markers. Robins,
equinoxes, thoughts of baseball, oiling the fishing gear,
forsythia, those sorts of observations always seem to be cited
as the coming. But haven't you noticed, those events have
happened and we still have reverted to sweaters and fires in the
hearth to ward off the chill left from Washington's winter.
Louis Halle, in "Spring in Washington" even makes a case for
some ridiculous deep winter day when buds begin to form, or some
such rot. Hey, I'm talking the real thing here. Today marks
the day when one can put aside all fears of returning winter,
and truly think spring. It's funny, but while puttering in the
garden I really did contemplate fishing and picnics and the
like, wondering how I was going to fit all these activities into
the list of mostly house related chores that stretches off
toward infinity. Yep, spring is here, finally, for sure.
The best part of the gardening today was making up a couple of
batches of potting soil. What is it about mixing all these
ingredients that is so satisfying? I get out a wheelbarrow and
place it near some good black dirt that can be spared from the
landscape. A few shovels scraped from the surface is all it
takes to form the "base" for the mixture. Then trundle over to
the peat moss station to scoop up handfuls of this magical
stuff. Mine has been left in the bag where rain gets in and has
turned into a luscious dark spongy mass. Mixing each amendment
in thoroughly is part of my ritual. So next comes the
vermiculite. Then a slathering on of a substance too vile to
contemplate... Milorganite. Our setter loves to breath deeply
of the open bag, which belies the cheerful logo and text on the
bag.
After the batch has been homogenized, I like to give it my test
for fitness for its intended purpose: squeeze a double handful
into a baseball size mass and see if it holds together. It
should be sticky enough to withstand a lob of about fifty feet,
but not a peg to first base. Just-right friable if you know
what I mean. I think of the plants that will wake up tomorrow
in this mixture and be happy as pigs in slop.
-end-
Copyright (c) 1993 David Winer