As far as I’m concerned spring has sprung. The forsythia twigs I brought inside a week ago have started to bloom. Some tiny shoots are emerging. I think they are the Star of Bethlehem. It’s odd because crocuses and snowdrops have yet to break ground. My beets germinated. I started them a month ago in a large pot in the unheated greenhouse. I admit I had just given up hope for them but the warm 43-degree day did the trick.

I ran into Nancy Weaver. She said her Ozark Witch Hazel is blooming. It has red flowers. The yellow flowered one is often mistaken for forsythia. There is one in front of Middletown Nursery which should show some color any day now.

I cut a few pea shoots in my hoophouse. I do not have many as some critter beat me to the first harvest. Who can blame it? They are so good. Clearly, the barn cat is negligent.

Big thanks to son Reuben and his friend, Jake. They redid the plastic on the big greenhouse. It was a chilly day so we started a little outdoor fire to warm our hands. The kindling was wet so it was no easy task. Jake peeled some sap from a cut in a pine tree and added it to the newspaper and viola — a nice blaze. It’s always nice to store that sort of information if a person is ever in a survival situation.

The ground was thawed enough to wiggle a few carrots loose. They had a less than perfect texture but the flavor was great. How I wish I would have covered them with bales of hay in December before the big freeze. Life is filled with could-haves and should-haves.

Ruth Stout wrote a book called the No Work Garden Book. She uses hay to cover weeds — never tills or waters. She calls it manure that did not go through the horse. I might have to take issue with her. I’ve been hauling bales of hay around in preparation for spring mulching and I have to call it work. I’m out of shape, downright crippled from a few hours on the business end of a wheel barrow.

I bought some strawberries at Ghost Island Farm. They were grown at the Farm Hub hydroponically. They were pricey but worth every penny. They actually tasted like strawberries. My friend Sharlee’s grandson, Johnny, told her they tasted just like the ones she grows in the summer. Compliments from seven year olds are worth getting some ink.

The hens have redeemed themselves now that the light has noticeably changed. I’m getting a decent amount of eggs. Perhaps I’ll spend the next snow day whipping up a few quiches for the freezer. It will be a big relief to have a quick meal at the end of a busy summer day. It would also be a good way to use up the rest of the storage onions. No offense to them but now that my baby onion seedlings are coming along, the ones in the pantry seem old and tired. So am I, so I should not judge.

The flag at the Vineyard Haven Post Office has become untethered. It is flapping wildly. I suppose it is a visual metaphor for the state of our union.

I earned my hippie street cred in our nation’s capital in the late sixties. I never thought I would defend the FBI. What in the world is happening? From my years in the anti-war movement, I learned that the FBI knows everything about a person including our President. Yikes.

Since I took a few weeks off from my usual political rant I need to catch up. Honestly, where to start? You cannot make this stuff up. Tuesday night’s news had DJT meeting at the Pentagon. He wants a military parade up Pennsylvania avenue. Guess he needs to show off to Kim Jong-un. Isn’t he the same DJT with five deferments from service in Vietnam — Cadet Bone Spurs as Sen. Tammy Duckworth calls him. Oh, and he said John McCain is a “loser” for getting captured.

He does not understand that people in the military and others in public service put love of country before an inflated ego. This actually includes most dedicated FBI agents and federal judges. I do, however, question the “motives” of some of our elected officials in Congress.