This unusually warm fall and early winter is keeping me cheerful long after I usually sink into the slough of despond--or, as we call it around my house, Mom's cranky mood when she can't garden.
Thanks to a mind-blowing lack of frost, I'm still using earth-moving tools at both my houses. First, I've been getting the last of my spring load of compost out of my husband's parking space in the city. He gets cranky, too, but it usually involves his wife's attempts to farm an urban yard.
And in the country, I spent all weekend pitching shredded leaves over my vegetable garden. The leaves were delivered by my lawn guy, and I suspect they are mixed with grass clippings, because the pile of them is the hottest compost pile I've ever seen. I forced my big kids to stick their hands into it, just to experience backyard science at its most fascinating. "Cool!" they said, meaning HOT--and then went back to whacking each other with sticks.
Anyway, I'm experiencing the kind of immense good cheer that's usually unthinkable by Thanksgiving, when, in a non-carbon-impacted year, the ground freezes solid. Yet here it is, the downside of December, and I'm still digging. Worrisome, all wrong, a world out of balance, and yet, hurray!