I see the garden as it will be--around June first. Peonies in full bloom. Roses, too. So many shades of green I can't chronicle them all. Oh sure, I see the dead elm tree at the edge of the woods, too, and hope that we can cut it before it blows down onto the arbor and flowers. Then again, if it stays one more year we might have a nice crop of morels under it in early May: dead things have their place in the world, too--especially in the woods.

But today the garden's palette is so many shades of brown I don't want to chronicle them all. The dark brown rudbeckia seed clusters on their lighter brown dried stems made a striking contrast to the snow throughout the winter. Now they blend into a wash with the wet soil, all of it suggesting it is ready for spring just as much as I am. Sometimes I think plants and animals don't belong in separate categories at all. The more I work in the garden, the more I marvel at how much alike we are. We all want to grow. And we will, in ways we do not yet even know.