As if in celebration of Imbolc, my seeds are visibly raising their defiant little fists at winter, and giving it the finger.  You may just be able to make them out.  Here’s another view of my vast lettuce fields.  Haha, you think I’m kidding.

My new green lamp is helping some cuttings to root.  Some of you may recall, I was The Propagatrix.  Some orientations never die.

Meanwhile, on GH Day, the NY and Canadian groundhogs disagree with Punx Phil and have predicted an early spring, so I’ll go with them.  Oh, and try to get it right the first time, save yourself a lot of déjà vu.

After all, this is deepest, darkest February, which means spring is right around the corner.  I should know, I was born in February, a dismal time when all hope seems lost, and you are obsessed with seed catalogs and seedlings.  But let me defer to the experts:

©Arnold Lobel, Frog and Toad All Year

Well, I’m running out of pithy anecdotes, here at The Almanac, but I hope I’ve managed to help  diminish some of your existential despair, or at least amuse you down there.  It’s how I get by, in these uncertain times.