The time has arrived. My neighbors, who are much more savvy with gardening than me, got my soil ready, and planted raspberry canes in the sunny spot outside the sewing room. My son dumped last year's compost into the raised bed, and pulled the remnants of forgotten crops. Except the rhubarb. That could stay. 

I went to the garden store feeling like a fraud. Could they tell I was a novice? Was there a sliding scale on prices, less for those with experience and more for those of us who will probably fail? 

Looking in the non GMO section I picked out packets of spinach, three varieties of lettuce, tomatoes, squash, basil, melon, and sunflowers. The man behind the counter was kind, and told me which to start inside and which could go in the ground today. He even put a rubber band around them to help me keep it all straight. 

The hoses have been on sabbatical since November and had to be turned on. There are three knobs in the basement near the washer. Which one is it? I thought about a riddle I once heard where there was a light bulb upstairs and two switches downstairs and someone has to figure out how to turn it on. I could never solve the riddle so was doubtful about the water. 

Eventually after several trips back and forth a stream sputtered out, as if it had been eager to escape the pipes. I don't blame it. Something in the air makes me want to get outside too. 

The dirt got black in the cool spray, and I could almost hear the seeds stretching their arms as they woke up. I turned off the hose, and washed my filthy hands. Now I wait. 

Many of the tasks that we engage in entail suspense. Like hoping for relationships to ripen. Anticipating maturity in our children. Dreaming about future plans. And yet there are plenty of ways to stay busy in the meantime.