Fictional gardening: Planting spinach

I’m not one of those people who can remember the characters and plots of books years after reading them. Instead, I’m left with strong if vague impressions. Take the case of Jane Smiley’s Moo, which I read in the late 90s. I recall only that I loved it and that I laughed so hard during some scenes that I almost fell off my couch. I can’t for a moment recall what the scenes were, only the couch and the falling. And I remember that the booked confirmed that academia was a strange world.

But although I can’t tell you the name of one character or plot twist or even what the main point of the novel was, there is one scene that has always stayed. It is the end of winter. Spring is breaking. The earth is softening, even under patches of lingering snow. And one of the characters – I can’t even tell you if it is a man or a woman – says that it is time to plant spinach. They open the back door (I hope I am getting the details right here) and toss a handful of spinach seeds onto the just-thawed dirt.

I always loved the idea. I don’t like waiting of any sort, and especially in spring, it always feels like forever until it is warm enough to poke little flower seedlings in the garden. It seems kind of rebellious somehow. Hah, take that winter darkness, and cold, and death! So every year right about this time, I think of Moo. And some faceless character tossing spinach seeds and renewed faith onto to a backyard garden.

But this year, I decided to do it. It seemed like the right year to try. This is my year of rebuilding. Of planting seeds and waiting to see what makes it. So on a whim, I picked up some seeds at the grocery store and scrapped off the leaves around the still-sleepy bed in the middle of my garden. Then the girls and I sprinkled and stirred and tossed.

We’ll see.