The last two weeks of February are almost always beautiful. This is the promise of spring, I guess, or the false-hope that spring has actually arrived. These two glorious weeks of blue sky and light-jacket weather after months of cold gray drizzle make me a little giddy.
The first thing I do is get the pea bed ready, put up the trellis, and plant the peas. I did that today. And while I was in the garden, I pulled a bunch of weeds, and noticed the violets that are up, and the crocus. The daffodils are budding, and the tulips are popping up. Spring is definitely on the way.
But after the peas are in, winter returns. It always does. In fact, it’s going to rain tomorrow and turn cold again. But the rain isn’t the worst part. The worst is the fog. So we have cold, drizzly fog, after two weeks of actually believing that spring might be within grasp.
Every year I tell myself not to fall for nature’s cruel trick, but it never works. I fall for it. And I’m disappointed. Every year.
And yet, the peas will eventually come up, cold, drizzly fog and all, and by the time they’re ready to be lightly steamed and salted, it really will be spring.