The soil, surprisingly warm, feels of spring. 

New ferns, bright green and vigorous, are root bound, holding tight to their plastic containers. Last year’s tired ferns easily pop from the winter dirt. Transplanted to a less conspicuous spot in the back yard, I will nurse them back to health. 

Red dianthus and sweet alyssum, how I’ve missed you. 

The dogs follow me sniffing the rose food I spoon into the earth.

Vondee iris, tall and strong, will soon bloom.

From my monster rosemary bush, I trim cuttings, poking each into dirt with a splash of root stimulator.  As though I need more rosemary…

I drink coffee from the porch swing, savoring this moment, this first day of gardening. By nine a.m. the temperature is already in the mid-fifties—a perfect afternoon awaits. A mourning dove sings. She knows too. 

I smile at the potting soil packed underneath my fingernails.