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The Smell of Fertilizer

Here’s what I love about Thursdays:  after class in the evening, I can actually do what normal human beings do, like go to the grocery store.  This Thursday I had no choice, I had to go…out of food, and out of major staples in the house, with family visitors this weekend.  Anyway, I’m strolling through the store (Target…oui) and all of a sudden…what’s that I smell?  Why, it’s fertilizer!  And that smell means only one thing to me: that spring is almost here!

While I grew up in Indiana, I did not grow up on a farm; however, my grandparents were farmers, and the family had a large strain of gardeners within it.  My grandma on my dad’s side had a huge garden at both of her homes when I grew up, and gardened well into her 80s.  The older she seemed to get, the less vegetables she seemed to plant, but instead more flowers.  I think she had every seed and bulb catalog known to man, and every rose bush and flower that could grow in zones 5-6.  (She, too, was a writer.  She even wrote poetry.  I’m in hopes that is where I got my writing bug.)

Many fond memories of gardening come rushing back to me at the start of spring.  If you get lucky enough to catch the whiff, stroll down the garden aisles for a moment, check out the seed packets, the gnomes, and the tools, and I hope it does for you what it did for me this evening: provide the realization that the promise of spring is just around the corner!

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