Starting seeds in early Spring has become a rhythm for me. Just as the snow begins to recede from the hilltops and the ice begins to travel down the river, I can be found in a greenhouse with dirt under my nails, working tired muscles that have become accustomed to hibernation. I hold these tiny natural jewels in my hands, and I am overwhelmed by the potential.
With snowshoes, I’ve been able to explore every aspect of my new property in Wolcott, Vermont. The cold temperatures and glistening snow drifts feel like a different planet from my first visit here in the early days of June. Buying this piece of land was the culmination of a ten year long dream my husband and I shared as we raised crops and livestock in the Southeastern United States. To think that all of those vegetables, markets, evenings shared in the Appalachian hills, and lists made would lead to such a beautiful place seems like the wrong answer to an improbable equation.