These previews have been approved by the LSOGP:
Appropriate for all Audiences.
Coming soon to a place near you (unless you live in the Southern Hemisphere).
"Yes, I'm talking about Spring", the annoyingly perky announcer chants with a lilt. Because, really, how can you say "Spring" in the cold darkness of winter without a lilt? Not possible.
On the Fifth and Sixth Days of Christmas, I rolled out the garden hose, attached the end to the bibb and watered three thirsty yews, two droopy rhodies, countless leafless rosebushes, and a partridge in a pear tree.
I checked the lettuce seedlings under the row cloth and found them flourishing despite a month producing stats of 0.0001 inches of precipitation and enough nights in the 'teens to create six inches of ice on the pond.
I might have even scattered a few more packets of lettuce into the raised bed with the hope that someday we will have snow (that white stuff that falls from the clouds in winter, reportedly). Gardeners, even Nevada gardeners, are such optimists. Who else would dare to dream of more baby lettuce plants growing under their own little fluffy snow blanket which protects them from subzero temps while simultaneously watering them and providing lots of filtered light.
Hey, it's the tail end of December and the thermometer reads sixty-six. It feels like mid-March here--at least for these two lovely precious days. I'm grabbing these tantalizing days of faux-Spring gardening and storing them up against the feet of snow that will undoubtedly fall on every three-day weekend for the next two months.
Sending wishes that you too are granted a respite to enjoy your heart's desire,