I made this still-art-with-music the other day. The photo is of the adirondack chairs and wooden barrels on my front porch the last week in March. It snowed fiercely that day, but the sun came up to melt it all on the next.

Those chairs and barrels sat on my parents' front porch for more than twenty years. They didn't fit with the southwestern aesthetic they're cultivating out there in the southwest, where they've retired, so we inherited them. The song playing in the background is "Like the Snow," by Kristin Andreassen. The lyrics seem to fit, somehow, with my feelings about my parents' leaving, and how I imagine they feel too.

Like the Snow
by Kristin Andreassen / Yellowcar Music, ASCAP

It was a warm love in a northern town.
It was the right time for settling down.
It was a storm brought me to your door.
I didn’t ask for your love, but I couldn’t ask for more.

I saw the sun come out yesterday.
I felt our love melting away.
Believe me when I say I’m gonna miss your face.
Walking away I wonder, do you know this place?

Between the white earth and the black night,
When a love’s going wrong but it’s still all right.
If only half of me wants to let go,
Can I go and come back like the snow?

They were good reasons I became your bride.
It’s nothing you did wrong, that’s not why I cried.
The pressure here, it’s in my own heart.
It’s beating me up, it’ll push us apart.

Because I’m not the same girl as when we met.
I know I’ll change again, and yet...
What if I come to miss your love,
All through the rainy southern winters, I’ll be dreaming of

Chorus

Does only half of you want me to go?
Can I turn and grow back like the green leaves turn yellow?
Can’t I lift and fall back like the snow.

Our beautiful garden is starting to come to life. Wide green things are poking through the ground, and things that look like asparagus tops in several shades, buds like these in the picture there coming out of bushes, and little blossom-shaped clusters of thick green leaves in mounds -- all of them seeking the sun with optimism and enthusiasm.

The poor things, they don't know that I am a gardening moron. The previous owners of this house were genius with the garden, planting things that would come back and setting up clever landscaping. We managed to put some mulch down once we weeded last summer, but that's about it. To give you an example of my lack of knowledge, earlier this week, I was walking with some friends home from Doodlebug's school and pointed out some green leafy things coming out of the ground in big clusters in someone's garden. "Hey," I said, "I have a ton of that stuff coming up all around my garden. Should I pull it out?"

My friend looked at me kind of funny and said, "Debi, those are tulips."

I was incredulous! I didn't plant any tulips! Don't you need to plant those in the fall? Aren't they bulbs? My friend tells me now that they will come back every year. Wow. Who knew? OK, don't respond to that last question; apparently the answer is "everyone but Debi."

So, we have some work to do in order to avoid killing everything that's coming up. I've brushed the dead leaves off the shoots I can see, and I've pulled out all the big tall dead brown things in the ground. I walked around the rest of the garden and shrugged a little. That's as far as I've gotten; check back with me for Mother's Day weekend, which I've designated as official gardening time.

There are some other little things popping up around here now, too. Our Shmoo finally had that growth spurt we've been waiting for since October 2006, and my relief isn't even a bit dampened by her constant requests for snacks, all day, constantly, and everywhere.


And Doodlebug, coming off her amazing performance of the hit tune "See Saw" (lyrics: "see saw, see saw, I like to ride on my see saw") at her first fiddle recital, has made some important decisions lately. She is going to grow her hair long, marry her friend Zora, and figure out how to pick her own first grade teacher in the fall. So there!


And me? I feel sometimes like I'm being dragged in the wake of all this renewal, that I'm watching miraculous transformations all around me while I stay in my holding pattern of "doing ok." Nothing's wrong, but I'm a little bored, a little stuck, a little unsure of where to put my energy and my interests. I'm trying to invest more time in my music, and finally get those reiki attunements I've been planning for two years, and finish the darned C25K program that I've started and stopped five times in the last year (week 8 AGAIN, and holding). I've been cooking a lot from Veganomicon and other vegan cookbooks; I have some neat photos of great vegan meals, so if anyone who reads this wants to see them, post a comment and I'll blog about them. My days lately are a lot of "keep my mind busy while everyone else grows." The kids are in a constant state of growth, as kids always are, and True is searching for meaningful work, and even my parents are reinventing themselves as retired. We'll see what spring brings for me.

I'm not kidding. Can anyone tell me what any of this stuff is, and how to take care of it? Please?



It's chives, right? If not, it's good in eggs anyway.


This seems to be tulips. I brushed the leaves away. Now what?


This is the cutest thing ever. There are millions here. Any ideas?



Only partly green, and there are a multitude. Are they claws? Are they plants? Will they come for me in the night?



Technically not green, but still, it's on a bush. It has lots of friends. Please help me not kill it!
You can post your help in comments, or private message, or if you know me, come over and take care of these pretty things in person before I mistakenly do something dangerous to them. "George, the rabbits are so soft. I didn't mean to pat so hard. George, the rabbit won't wake up! George? Help!"