Spring Fever

This is the time of year that I miss farming the most. The anticipation of a fresh year of growing things hangs in the air like heavy dew. I have an urge to till the soil, plant tomatoes and order some chickens. I scan the interesting Renegade Gardener website for a backlog that I haven't read. How did people ever grow things before the Internet?
It is this time of year that I look to fill myself with knowledge agricultural and dig into the poetic literature of the land. I reach for philosopher Wendell Berry's classic Farming:a Handbook, still one of the best books of poetry ever written. It is time to read the poetic equivalent of putting my hands in the soil. I read the Man Born to Farming