Agriculture

If I tell you you're going to hear the real dirt on me, you may expect something salacious. Sorry to disappoint. The real dirt on me is really just dirt. I've been somewhat fixated on this topic since the day last week when spring seemed to hit the farm in a torrent of simultaneous events, as if mandated by the calendar. It may have been the day of the equinox or the day before, I don't fully remember, but I emerged in the morning to such a balmy moistness in the air that I left hat and gloves behind when I did chores, for the first time in months. Rounding the corner heading toward Possum's pen, I was honked at by a pair of Canada geese, my annual guests, freshly arrived that morning to set up their nest on the island in the middle of the pond. They will stay only until their goslings are hatched and fledged, about ten weeks from now. Coming back from the barn, I checked the progress of my garlic in the vegetable garden, and found sorrel leaves peaking up above the ground. By then, I was for the first t