Neither Wind nor Rain.

I planted seeds today.  It was sort of a devil-may-care, fate-be-damned kind of act on my part, mostly because a woman in my situation shouldn’t be sowing into ground that might be someone else’s at any moment.  But today I didn’t care. 

You see, I’m tired of waiting.  And I’m tired of loss. 

So during a coldly sunny moment this afternoon, while Siennalee napped sweetly, I ran outside armed with last year’s leftover seeds, my still winter-stiff purple gardening gloves, a trowel and my trusty organic fertilizer.

I’d already scoped out my raised bed when I weeded it this last weekend and knew right where I needed to plant.  I scratched the fertilizer into the dirt, carefully added the seeds (lettuces and peas), buried them, and ignored the spills due to my shivering and the blasts of icy wind that blew down unexpectedly.  By the time I got the remaining snow peas tucked into their little semi-circle, I was feeling pretty good. 
Chilly, but good. 

I was doing it. 

I was making something happen.  

Even though the ground may not even be mine by the time the little sleeping seeds awake and grow and produce, by golly, something’s going to happen.  Standing there, quaking slightly in the cold light, I felt like I was standing up to fate.  For all this endless waiting and loss we’ve endured, something good is going to happen. 

That’s when   something  did  happen.       Standing there,  shivering and gazing contentedly down at the quiet little rows of upturned earth, I suddenly felt whispers of chill drift down on me; I scrutinized the dirt incredulously and then looked up at the sky. 

It was snowing. 

But come winds or rains or weird March snows,    my seeds are planted.