The signs are here, spring is on it's way. Of course we know it intellectually; the seasons move in a predictable order, even though at times the calendar seems to be in a different seasonal time zone. This year for many in the east, south, and midwest, it must feel as if winter has frozen in place.
Here, today, in Portland, I can feel it in my bones and in my heart; spring is on it's way. The sun was almost summer hot as it shone through the car window on the way back from showing property in Happy Valley. The days are longer, it's light at 530. The long, twilights at the end of day will soon arrive. Iris shoots are green and inches above their nurturing corms. Crocus, daffodil and other spring bulbs are poking through leafy winter blankets.
A truly important sign though, has been the arrival of the seed catalogues. Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds, the 2011 Pure Seed Book, so beautifully illustrated arrived a few days ago. It's the most beautiful one I get now, the others pale in comparison.
The tomatoes alone are worth several hours of browsing, and dreaming. Can't help but dream of the tomatoes in shades of purple, deep chocolate, terracotta pink, purple-pinks and deep caramels with hints of red and chocolate, just a few of the many varieties in the purple category.
Varieties from Russia, Siberia, Kazakhstan, North Africa, Thailand. On other pages, our own Kentucky, Virginia, California heirlooms float from photos, gently singing plant me, raise me, enjoy me. All promise to be the best, the most flavorful, colorful and heat resistant.
Icicles, zebras, oxhearts, moonglows, sunrays, green velvets: the names alone create a vision poem that can't be resisted.
All that emotion and there are still the peppers, the squash, the radishes the eggplants to scutinize.
Salad greens and melons, cukes, peas and beans, and beets.
I'm planting beets this year: golden, pink striped, albino white, early reds. I plan to have them all summer with goat cheese and a light vinaigrette dressing. Along with the sliced tomatos, that will be my new summer staple.
I know that February is yet to come, that ice storms are possible, sleet and rain, or rain and snow may yet keep us trapped at home on an early March morning. I know.
I also know that the seed catalogue will be a fine companion, with tea and toast and my spring dreams of summer's harvest.
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