The cup of Raspberry Rush tasted sweet. I walked out to the garden to clear my head. The pansies Markus and I planted weeks ago died soon after we tucked them in the ground. A little flurry of snow tailed by a few near freezing nights didn’t help. The roots would have a fighting chance. I looked for green sprouts but didn’t find any sign of the things yet. Grass tufts lined the edge of the garden bed close to the reseeded ground cover that went wild the past two years. The faded silver and yellow pinwheel Marko christened the bed with clicked rhythmically in the stop and go breeze. I imagined the tomato sprouts we started in a container waist high bearing hefty fruit in the coming months. I could hardly wait for summer.
