Nick Alm



And so, we enter the doldrums of the year. The place between the harsh seas of winter and the manic activity once we’re ashore in spring. Last fall, I couldn’t wait for the snow to come so could stop working, stand back and take an admiring look at all I’d accomplished, then finally have a rest. Now, the first, second and third snows have fallen, Christmas and New Years have come and gone, and like every idjit with a pot of dirt, I’ve started into the seed catalogs, praying for an early respite from heavy boots, frozen fingers and wondering if I’m going to be able to get out of my driveway. The doldrums make me love spring the way sleep makes me love breakfast. It is the least productive time of year when all the best plans are laid but zero is actually accomplished. In a couple of months, I’ll still be looking forward. Forward to planting, watering, harvest and those long, lovely evenings of autumn with a fistful of beer and forkful of wild mushrooms, forgetting entirely what it was like to do nothing.

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