March gets to work. February felt like it had 55 days instead of 28. Ice over snow. Snow over frozen ground. Mornings where the back fields looked like an Olympic size ice rink, flat, silver, quiet in a way that makes you listen to your own boots on frozen soil. Winter does not ask permission. It just shows up sometimes.
But inside the greenhouse, it was another season starting.
Michael was in there early, seeding and weeding… weeding and seeding! Spinach coming up first. Then turnips. Swiss chard. Collards. Fennel. Enough to harvest. Enough to fill baskets in the Market cooler. Enough to build breakfast and lunch around what is coming straight out of the greenhouse and the chicken coops.