Even when Spring was still unsure and far too tentative for those of us who lived through this winter, the fever struck and I couldn’t stop myself from moving compost and loam, two five gallon buckets at a time, to build garden beds. On a particularly spring like day, a couple of weeks ago, I dragged my children to the beach to fill the trunk of the car with seaweed and then to watch me rifle through some of those big silver recycling bins in search of newspaper for mulching. It seemed like a crazy errand, but also absolutely necessary, something that had to be done because of spring and the promise of a garden full of leaves and fruit and everything that our brownish lawn and bare trees were not.

Last weekend, I dug up part of the lawn into beds to make room for 50 strawberry plants. When they arrive next week we will tuck them in and wish them sweet dreams while they spend the next  couple of years of growing into healthy plants and preparing to put all that sweetness in their strawberries. Peas, carrots, beets, radishes and greens are seeded into two of the beds along with great hopes that they will grow and flourish and feed us well.

Amos is building houses and a garden for fairies under one of our magical crab apple trees. It has been so many months since we’ve seen their leaves, I look forward to watching them wake up again. Used to a monochromatic landscape, I can tell with a glance out the window as soon as the grass grows a shade greener. The peepers have been singing at the top of their lungs. I’ve been through this seasonal shifting, sprouting, blossoming before, though not in this very spot that is now our yard. Even if you’ve seen it every year, there is still magic or wonder or simply good cheer in the proof that once again, spring has arrived.

It will be a few years, probably, before our garden beds are all built and our yard looks like an orchard and garden instead of something straw-covered and scraggly. I’m grateful to have the chance to try to build something I’ve dreamed of for so long. It is a gift to have time to plan and ponder what, where, and how to plant but also to dig in and start the process, to run with inspiration, creativity and energy where it takes me. I get to dig into this patch of earth, become more closely connected to this particular place and do my best to encourage the growth and new life that is all around.