I blinked and the season changed from deep winter to 84F in the north side of the house. Sweat was pouring into my eyes as I planted peas this morning--these are not optimal conditions for peas, who can deal with frost but hate the heat as much as I do.
The garden is almost all in. The southern transplants that I put in during the gale are looking great, thanks to the non-stop downpours. The spinach I planted in two feet of snow last month is up, but if this weather keeps up it'll bolt before we can eat it. Ditto for the lettuce.
In ornamental news, the plants that wintered indoors--zonal and scented geraniums, and a fairly sizable rosemary bush--are now outside. I could practically hear the rosemary sigh as it fluffed itself out in the sun. Some pulsatillas by the back door have put out their purple crocus-like flowers. Other than that, nothing is blooming yet, unless you count the algae in the pond, which are putting on a magnificent show.
I guess what the old timers say about snow--that it's good for plants--is true. Despite this long, cold winter, the third snowiest on record, I don't think I've lost a single plant. The lilacs, including the one that was gnawed almost to death by our rabbit, are loaded with buds. The lavender bushes, the climbing roses (also decimated by the rabbit), the giant hostas all prospered under that snowy duvet.
We're going shopping to the big city of Rutland (pop. 17,292) tomorrow, and I'm excited. Here is my list:
16 broccoli transplants
8 big bags of mulch
laying pellets (for the hens)
a Havahart trap for the porcupine that's been eating our house (literally). (Not sure what we'll do if we catch him.)
6--or maybe 8?--baby chicks!