I get it, how skiers at high altitudes sit out in big chairs, après ski, faces to the sun, sunglasses, snow all around and ear warmers on but jackets off.  And smiles! You have never seen such smiles.  They look toasty and warm, and beginning to burn. 

I did much the same on Monday, but on my little deck, and wearing a down vest but still, my face to the sun, coffee, and the soft gurgling of the gutters as the snow melted.  I got a little bit warm, even, and almost fell asleep.  I, too, was warm and toasty and grateful for the sun and the snowmelt.  Not even a taste of spring, but a reassurance that nature has a way of righting herself, eventually. 

Some years it is mild and stays mild and we know by now that spring is on the way, has been trying to barge in the back door since before Christmas.  This will not be that kind of year, and I reckon we will have more cold, and maybe even one more snow before true and glorious spring. Even so, now is the time to start planning those gardens and my thoughts have turned to tomatoes. 

Once more I am going to try my hand at tomatoes,  just one more time.  It’s not that I can’t grow them, although toward the end I get tired of watering and they are an embarrassment.  Well, maybe I  am the embarrassment.  It’s the squirrels that do in my efforts.  But, dreaming on my deck as the sun shone, I decided to turn my dedication to tomatoes I can grow in pots.  On my deck.  Where I can keep an eye on them. 

My research tells me loads of tomatoes are perfect for container gardening.  Some produce fruit that is full-sized, or almost full-sized, something the literature and old-timers call “good slicers.”  Cherry tomatoes, too, and bush varieties, all great options for small places.  I’m up for it, but they aren’t easy to find. Live plants I can reserve now for spring delivery are expensive, and I have no luck starting plants from seed.  Well. Clearly if I go this route it won’t be a homesteading move, like making my own clothes and killing my own meat. 

Next to research alarm systems and security systems, both passive and active to notify me of squirrel activity. The way they denude my cherry tomatoes, gnaw on my Beefsteaks.  So far they don’t know I have a deck.  I’ll report back in July if that changes.

Let’s talk cupcakes.  Birthday cupcakes.  Finally, I have some little folk to share my birthday celebrations and it makes me so happy.  Last year we all gathered here, my sweet sister-in-law, Judi,  planned the whole thing, and no small thing it was, either.  An elaborate meal, party napkins, there may have been streamers, just a festive atmosphere and the family gathered at the weekend, little kids running around. 

The twins have a March 1 birthday, close enough to mine to justify a joint celebration and there were cupcakes.  Now, their mother is a faithful and serious watchdog of their diets, and it is possible they had never seen a cupcake before.  More likely, this was the first time they made the connection between cupcake and  delicacy.  They still talk about them.

These are children who prefer snacks like frozen mango chunks, pineapple chunks, and  I hope you are you sitting down — raw red peppers. Or yellow ones, if they must. I gave their big brother snow peas once because he was still hungry and all I had at hand were snow peas.  He devoured them and asked in his sweet little lisping two-year-old voice,”Are there more vegetables?” And here’s me all out of white asparagus. 

I love that they love vegetables and fruit. I sneak pieces from their bowls when I visit, and you know what?  It is delicious and refreshing and makes me ashamed of the Milky Ways I have hidden for “emergencies.” 

So, I hope to celebrate with the twins, even if it is for an hour or two with gifts and fun and a few red peppers.  As long as there are cupcakes.  Since I will be there, too, of course there will be cupcakes. Pink ones.