Wednesday, March 19, 2008

It is SO ON

Tomorrow is the first day of Spring and I would like to know why we don't have the day off as a national holiday.

Especially since HELLO the first sprouts are up in the garden which is a way bigger deal than when my stupid neighbors hang up their Christmas lights in October.

I mean, these are real things that are going to do much fancier things than blink and glow until March (yes, we're still waiting for those lights to come down) - they are going to grow food and also look pretty, attract bees and give me a location to direct my listless gaze.

WAY BETTER than net lights, I'd wager. And, frankly, I'd swap you The First Day of Spring for Christmas any old day of the week. Sadly though, the nation's calendar of appropriate holidays is not under my control, and so I must march off to work tomorrow although I plan to do so under protest but while wearing my First Day of Spring outfit.

Maybe we can start this new holiday off like one of those other kinds of second tier holidays where you still have to come to work but get to dress up and fuck off all day and no one says anything and sometimes you get to drink at your desk. Like Halloween! But without the dogs dressed like drag queens, that is not my bag.

Anyway, my bizarre mood is inspired by the pea sprouts shooting up along their fences in the garden. I spotted them last night and have really been basking in the glow of Something's Growing in the Garden ever since.

Like, I know I will go home tonight and blast past the dog/cat/Bubba/overflowing trash can so that I can get quickly to the garden to stare at their little green leaves.

And then I'll take a hundred pictures, maybe pet them a little bit, tell them they're very cute and small and basically just make it totally obvious to my neighbors that I'm a nutter to the nth degree.

As though they already didn't know. This *is* the 4th gardening season after all. They may have seen me wearing my crazy suit once before.

Anyway - I hope to have a Pickling Cucumber update for you soon (they take longer to sprout than peas) but in the mean time you can look at this volunteer cucumber plant that came up in the tomato bed. I think he's left over from the basketball sized cucumber than was found abandoned and rotting under the lemon cucumber plant last year when I cleaned out the beds.


I'll let him get a little bigger and the probably stick him in with the other cucumbers OR if you live close by (San Jose, CA anyone?) and want a Lemon Cucumber plant to call your own, let me know and you can pick him up. He should be ready for adoption in a few weeks.

Happy First Day of Spring tomorrow! Feel free to take the day off or at least come to work in a spring-y get up and have a cocktail at your desk.


  1. C'mon Finny! Can we have a beet update??? IS there a beet update to be had???

  2. I love it. It is so on! Good for you my friend. Can't wait to watch your garden grow.

  3. That is so exciting. I really think that spring is one of my favorite seasons. Almost makes me want to start my own garden. Almost. I would take you up on your cucumber offer, but my thumb is so not green. In fact, I would call it black. Or lazy. In any case, unless it barks at me to tell me it's thirsty, chances are it won't survive in my garden...


[2013 update: You can't comment as an anonymous person anymore. Too many douchebags were leaving bullshit SPAM comments and my inbox was getting flooded, but if you're here to comment in a real way like a real person, go to it.]

Look at you commenting, that's fun.

So, here's the thing with commenting, unless you have an email address associated with your own profile, your comment will still post, but I won't have an email address with which to reply to you personally.

Sucks, right?

Anyway, to remedy this, I usually come back to my posts and post replies in the comment field with you.

But, if you ever want to email me directly to talk about pumpkins or shoes or what it's like to spend a good part of your day Swiffering - shoot me an email to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.