We humans are fickle things.
In October and November I'm eager for the snow to return. Running outside at it's first sign in a tshirt and relishing the feeling of blistering cold.
In March I'm begging it to leave. Pleading. Cajoling. Giving Promises. If only it would go and the warmth and sun and green and growing return.
I've forgotten what it was like to feel comfortable in a tshirt and sandals outside, to not have frozen fingers and feet stuffed into boots.
I've forgotten the ease of not needing to plan extra time to scrape ice off my windshield or carry water to the hens.
I've forgotten what summer feels like and, even though I know better, a part of me almost wonders if it will ever return.
And, usually, in this deepest place of despair and grumpiness and cabin fever, the Sun suddenly shines. Almost as if she wants to ensure the grandest entrance, the greatest appreciation for her shine, and the biggest welcome for her return.
So I make sure I run outside in a tshirt and feel the warmth of her shine, turn my face to her face, and smile and laugh and give her the greatest, most ebullient standing ovation possible, for she is what helps the green things to grow
What are Microgreens?
The cats have been enjoying the odd day of sunshine here and there, but not so much the other days of wind and cold and snow. And, honestly, neither does this farmer. Sheesh! Doesn't the weather know I've got projects to get done in the field before too long that can't be done with a foot of icy snowpack in the way!
What's available this week?
Where to find it all?
The Mini Microgreen Market of course, running all winter!
Thursdays from 12-1pm at the Libby Chamber of Commerce
*come inside where it's warm & toasty while the micros are chill in their mini cooler*
I'm Farmer Megan with a life full of cackles, clucks, quacks, weeds, crazy kitten, and one tiny, senior, blind dog.