Living Where There are Seasons

Day before yesterday, a Minnesota Twins baseball game, in their lovely new outdoor stadium without a retractable roof, was delayed for a bit when baseball-sized hail fell, confusing batters and umps and outfielders, and bashing spectators down to seat level. (I may have exaggerated the size of the hail by an inch.)

A tornado came through town, intent, apparently, in searching for a mobile home park, and not spotting it.

For several days, I have hand-cultivated the "streambed" where I once had perennial wildflowers, which grew to be larger than the arbor vitae next door. I have been trying to ready the bed for annual wildflowers. I worked in fits and starts, having a fit every time it started to rain.

Today I planted half-pound of seeds, which I very carefully measured out so that it did not cover the whole seed bed.

Today I ordered another half-pound of annual wildflower seeds. The supplier says half a pound of wildflower seeds will cover 3,000 acres, which the first half-pound did, downwind.

It is Spring in Minnesota, in my step, and in my dreams.

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