Spring in storybooks and movies always looked like a glorious time to me; however, the reality wasn’t always very nice. In some places where I have lived, spring was a time of melting snow, the appearance of once-buried and very aromatic dog poo, and seas and seas of sticky mud.

So, as you may imagine, the other seasons were much more attractive to me.

Spring in Seattle is more like the storybook/movie kind. It’s gorgeous here. After months of gloom and drizzle, the sun appears and the drizzle still drizzles, but it’s a nice kind of drizzle…the kind of drizzle that keeps the landscape emerald green and produces glorious flowers everywhere.

Before I made the Pacific Northwest my home, I occasionally attempted gardening, but the results were usually poor. Trying to grow vegetables in the short growing season and rocky soil of Montana and was challenging. Only the greenest of thumbs succeeded. My mom’s friend, Peggy, could probably grow corn on Mars, so she does well there. For me, with only the faintest tinge of green to my thumb, Rocky Mountain gardening was too difficult to be fun.

Here, it’s a totally different story. Plants want to grow, and mostly do it without the intervention of an eager gardener. I’m dying to get out in the fresh air and plant things. I’ve started cracking the books.

And I’ve planted peas outside.

And have started more temperamental things indoors (tomatoes, peppers, tomatillos, oh my!)

I’ve also got a bag of dirt and echinacea seeds chilling in my refrigerator. It’s kind of funny to see it sitting there, in between the eggs and cheese. It’s worth it though! In a few months, my garden will be filled with those lovely purple-y flowers and buzzing bees.

Spring has become a season to enjoy all on its own, but also for the wonderful things it promises.