"The Sounds of Silence," but not in Waitsburg

As I’ve come to learn, I cannot be confident that spring has truly arrived, no matter what the calendar says or how many daffodils, tulips, and crocus I see. Someone recently advised me not to plant anything until after April 15th, but I’m not convinced this is relevant to the weather; perhaps it’s the IRS, or; possibly, they are members of Daniel’s garden fan club and just want to delay my planting to support his victory in our garden competition. OK, I could be a bit paranoid, but this is a serious rivalry. Another option, this year, we have a bit of COVID-19 relief, and taxes aren’t due until May 15th. Spring has decided to take advantage of that time extension as well.

But the sounds of Spring in Waitsburg wait for no man, and weather changes or IRS tax extensions don’t stop the sounds of spring, good and bad. The mourning doves sound strong, loud, and going non-stop. The birds are back chirping and gorging on bird seed while taunting Mugsy into barking and chasing them all over the yard. The happy sound of children zooming through the neighborhood on their bikes, scooters, and small tractors has started, along with lawn mowers that are revved up and chopping the grass that has made it through winter. That, of course, perks up the hay fever and the sounds of sniffing, sneezing, nose-blowing, and Claritin popping.

Somehow to add to all of these expected and mostly wonderful sounds of spring, we seem to have attracted a woodpecker to the metal vents on our new roof. As a city girl, I remember reading that roosters sound off and wake everyone up around 5:00 a.m. No one warned me that woodpeckers are also early risers and evidently don’t care if they peck on trees or metal vents on a roof. Obviously, they don’t understand the concept of futility. This bird’s rapid pecking on our metal vent sounds like a loud motor and usually starts around 5:30 a.m. He (or she) attacks one vent, then another, and another eventually flies off only to return about an hour or two later to try again. I’m just hoping I don’t find out I have holes in the vents, and next year we have snow falling into our attic.

Meanwhile, even with the unpredictable weather and the recent below-freezing temperatures, I have started to rev up my gardening projects, beginning with what Daniels refers to as my “deforestation of Washington,” otherwise known as “weeding.” I am vigilant when it comes to weeding. I subscribe to the saying, “great oaks from little acorns grow,” so I’m almost down to using tweezers to pick out the little weeds that I’m sure, if left unattended, will grow into enormous obnoxious weeds that will thwart what could be a bounty of beautiful flowers and vegetables, that is, if the weather ever stops freezing.

As I’ve mentioned before, patience is not something I possess in abundance, or at all, so I was happy to hear and take to heart the advice that, weather cooperating or not, it’s a good time to plant onions, radishes, and lettuce. I am proud to say that although the new lettuce hasn’t popped yet, the lettuce I planted last year is returning and ready to use, and my newly planted radishes have sprouted.

But I am confident that spring is around the corner. I have retired my snow tires, cleaned my car, and tweaked my playlist. The next sound of spring will be me driving with the top down, blasting music through the streets of Waitsburg.