March has so far, as usual, been unsettled as to weather…and I’ve been feeling a bit unsettled myself. I’ve been writing a lot of drafts, which is a good thing–productivity–and full of ideas that I’m not taking a lot of action on at the moment. I need to feel a bit more settled in my mind and physical self before I can really get going on the garden, travel, revising work, all the rest. The ides of March passed just yesterday, St, Patrick’s Day is tomorrow; and no, I will not be planting peas on St. Patrick’s Day.

In fact, I’ve no idea what the garden will be like this year. I’ve sketched out a plan, but that doesn’t mean I will stick to it. I will be traveling to see loved ones in spring, and this year’s long cold winter has changed the “usual” (whatever that is in this time of climate weirdness) progression of the vegetable patch prep. So, who can tell?

Here’s something I drafted two weeks ago. A seasonal poem with a hint of frustration and a little relief:

Late February

And I’m awaiting
the buzzards’ return.
Each year
they migrate just
two or three months
then reappear
on their snag perches
and on updrafts,
wings outstretched
to embrace
the sky.
I can’t say I miss them
in winter
yet am glad
of their return
which signals
a tiny season
one wedge in winter’s grip
that says
it is just warm enough
for decay’s odors
to reach turkey vultures’
nasal cavities.
Soon there will be
skunk cabbage
and skunks will awaken.
Here, spring commences
with leaf-mold stink
and buzzards.
Reader,
try to be grateful.



~~

Skunk Cabbage

symplocardis foetidus