Is it winter? Spring? Seasonal confusion at Mutton Hill

March at Mutton Hill remained quite frigid throughout, with winter only beginning to relinquish its grip in the last week or so. That didn't mean balmy weather however, as we simply traded snow and ice for chilly and wet. Goodbye winter and hello mud season!  Normally, at this time of the year, mud season equals sugaring season and we would be actively sugaring, however, we were travelling for half of the month, which meant that we did not have the time to devote to the process.

Thankfully we still have ample syrup left over from last year to tide us until the next season. While this year has been remarkably cold, the weather in March is often mercurial and seemingly interminable.  It quickly became apparent to us this year, how much the process of tapping trees, gathering sap, and boiling does to ameliorate the winter blahs and carry one through the transition into true spring. Somehow trudging through snow carrying sap buckets makes the weather seem less onerous. In contrast, this year, despite being away for much of the month, without being able to lose ourselves in the work of sugaring, March in the gardens seemed to drag on and on and on.

When we left on our travels, the gardens were buried under the snow. When we returned, the snow was gone, and it felt like just maybe, spring had decided to arrive. Ha! I spent the first day back engaging in the perennial spring garden activity of running from one infinitesimal flower to another and basking in the awe that these gems inspire each year as they offer proof that yes, there is still life underground waiting to spring forth.

The next day, which was also the first day of spring, was predicted to be overcast and chilly with the odd snowflake or two. Not unusual weather for the first day  of spring in Vermont, and I made plans to clean up the flower beds. However, the odd snowflake or two resulted in a few inches of "partly cloudy" and the beds had to wait for another day.  Winter was not done with us yet.

Instead, I seeded flats in the greenhouse while looking out at the snow and trusting that the weather will eventually warm up enough for the tomatoes and peppers. My leeks and kohlrabi were already sprouted, yet despite being cool-weather plants, Vermont's current 'cool' was much too cold for them to move outside, but soon, it will be warmer. Soon, abundance will return. Soon, I will have more to write about the happenings in the gardens than I have time and space to put it down. Soon, there will be more than cold and snow. It certainly doesn't feel like it, but it will happen. And, despite my impatience, I KNOW spring is coming. Winter will release its grip. The warmth will come. IT always does, and if sometimes it doesn't feel like it, the garden reminds me. Reminds us.

We may still get the odd few inches of snow, but each time it melts, the snowdrops, cyclamen, and hellebores reappear. The sprouting snouts of fritillaries poke through the earth, buds plump out, and birds fill the lengthening days with their song. March has gone, and if I take a moment to listen, I can hear the garden's hints about what April will bring.