Snow on the Roof and at the Door

The greenhouse door had a threshold of snow from the couple inches that had fallen overnight.  A thin blanket drooped down from the roof line -- some encouragement that the internal temperature was warm enough to loosen the grip of the weather.  Tir and I kicked away the accumulation at the door and tentatively walked inside where I was relieved to be greeted by warm air and the reassuring whir of the heater.  I call it "warm" air, but such is only a reference to relativity.  Even with the heater, it is still cool inside -- 40's, if the thermometer is to be believed; but given that the outside temps are still in the middle teens, it feels almost balmy.

I still have plenty of rainwater stored up in miscellaneous milk jugs and buckets and bottles and tubs, but having already emptied a few of the makeshift containers in my ersatz reservoir, I can see that supply will not likely meet demand.  Sprinkling a drink over the valiant stems, I see the lettuce regrowth making good progress -- encouraging, since we hope to serve salad on Sunday to the friends who helped assemble the greenhouse.  The seeded greens are, thin and wispy, are nonetheless tanding tall, with the spinach now taking the lead.  Among the herbs, however, I discern a disheartening fade in the Mexican oregano.  I can hardly blame it.  Even with the contributions of the stalwart little heater, the environment inside the greenhouse is hardly Mexican.  We'll see.

A colleague yesterday asked affectionately and almost pleadingly if there might be sometime that he could come by and experience what we are doing.  Before I could more carefully formulate a proper response I heard myself, with an air of authority, replying that there isn't much right now to see or experience, but that I would start seeding in earnest in the greenhouse in late February or early March, working soil in April and planting in early May.  Then, the earliest maturity rates are around 45 days, and so sure, sometime after that...

"Where," I suddenly wondered to myself with some measure of satisfaction, "did all that come from?  It almost sounded like I knew what I was doing."

Recalling that conversation this morning, I look again at the Mexican oregano just to regain some proper measure of humility.  Then I underscored the parting observation I confessed to my friend:  "I will likely never be more successful than I am right now -- before I have begun."

Well, like I said before:  we'll see.