The top portion of my window in my bedroom had slid down and even though it was cloudy with a sullen, gray sky and rain splattered the pane, there was a hint of spring squeezing through the slit. The smell brought memories of warm mud, budding trees and worms on the pavement to enter my head. Though February had been a brutal month, with fierce weather that wore down the stoutest of men, it could not linger and was drawing to a close.
Soon I would be putting up in the kitchen my small, beaten up, plastic sheathed greenhouse, its green, metal tubes chipping from use. An old aquarium light serves as the sun and is held up by bits of wire. I will be filling the cloudy plastic trays with crumbly, moist starter mix and embedding seeds in it, who will lie curled up in anticipation for the first trickles of water which will send them sprouting.
The green house will smell gloriously of earth and spring with its fragrant, damp soil. And soon I will be able to plant the young seedlings outside. Yes, spring is be coming and nothing will stop it.