As I was coming in from the garden, just now, some thoughts came to mind and I wanted to share them - although (being fellow gardeners) I know many of the same thoughts are in your minds.

I love spring. Mostly this weekend has been cloudy here, with showers off and on. Dank and dreary really. If weather and warmth and sunshine were all you noticed. I've spend 5 - 6 hours working in the garden the last two days.

And it's a good thing we've been cooped up for so long, isn't it? Wet layers of leaves that blew in from who knows where to rake up. Last year's perennial stems to cut down and gather up (if you leave them for seeds for the birds, protection for small animals, and winter interest, the way I do - and why the heck do I leave them for small animals anyway? When I know the only small animals around here are mice and rabbits and such - none of whom do me any favors at all!). Oh, and wet gunk - green leaves and green stems that got frozen last fall before they had a chance to dry up. Yuck! There aren't even enough icky words to describe that stuff that I've been sticking my fingers into during the last two days!

But the promise. The promise is what makes it all worth while this time of year. The promise of spring and renewal and some of the best of things that are worth loving in this world (family and friends excluded, of course). So while I'm out in the dark, dreary greyness and dampness, with sprinkles falling into my hair from time to time... and while I'm sticking my fingers into some of the slimiest stuff ever... all around me, I see the promise of spring and I feel it down into the innermost part of my soul. The damp air kisses my cheeks. Tiny green plants are poking up everywhere, glad (it seems) to be freed of the heavy, wet leaves and the slimy rotting stuff that was around them.

I know I risk sounding overly sentimental, or overly something anyway, (not sweet with all the gunk and slime words I've used) but those are just a few of the things I've felt in my garden this weekend.

This annual renewal is, indeed, the promise.