Have you got it? That itch to get out and get your hands dirty? It hits me every year.
Of course, it doesn’t hit me like it does my dad. He gets the urge early on. Plants potatoes on March 17th. And when one of his brothers is around, they discuss how tall this is, and how’re you doing your tomatoes this year. (Answer: Cattle panel on each side, all the way down the row.)
When I hear that talk, it starts.
I have a feeling my yen to garden is not unlike what a serial killer feels when he starts wanting to get back to his hobby. “Gotta plant it. Gotta fertilize it. Gotta grow it. I just can’t feel right until I do.”