Frost 6 Days from May

The garden – I want to plant it.  Everything in me screams that time is slipping by.  (Where I lived for 30+ years, by this time of the year crops were in the ground.)

Mom, however, insists the time is not yet right.

I must wait.

I hate waiting.

Mom’s wisdom was evident this morning as I watched Daughter scrape frost from her car’s windows.

36 degrees.  Frost.  And, here we are 6 days from May.

When I was a child, May 1 declared barefoot season was upon us – I was free to slip off my shoes and run around with bare feet. The cool clover felt so delightful to my tender, shoe protected feet and the grass tickled as I walked upon it.

Mom’s reminder that we’ve not yet passed through Locust Winter or Blackberry Winter causes an impatient glance at the calendar.

I remind myself: “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

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