Nelson County Rocks

Recently I stepped on a metal rake I had stupidly left lying pointing up on the ground, and the laws of physics produced an egg-sized protrusion on my forehead, which thankfully went down with icing and is only barely noticeable now.  Our friend Phil Welker (a former English teacher) then sent me the following Robert Frost poem, made doubly meaningful by the fact that my family spent many summers in Ripton, Vermont, only a short distance down the road from Homer Noble Farm, Frost’s summer residence.

The Objection to Being Stepped Upon

At the end of the row
I stepped upon the toe
Of an unemployed hoe.
It rose in offense
And struck me a blow
In the seat of my sense.
It wasn’t to blame
But I called it a name.
And I must say it dealt
Me a blow that I felt
Like Malice prepense.
You may call me a fool,
But was there a rule
The weapon should be
Turned into a tool?
And what do we see?
The first tool I stepped
Turned into a weapon.

Given the tragic and scary news coming out of Japan these days, I can’t help wondering about a similar irony and possible lesson.

Pictures from March 1st: Veggie garden being expanded to double potato production; green areas are garlic and onions planted in the fall.  Daffodils had just come out, and are now blooming throughout our woods along the road.  Peas, turnips, and spinach have since been planted, with collards, kohlrabi, chard, spinach, six varieties of lettuce, chives, parsley, and cilantro all growing inside under grow lights.  Spring peepers are peeping and a new set of green frogs has colonized our little pond, so spring is definitely arriving!