growing wheat

The mowers were out today, blowing leaves and trimming hedges and raking debris. And mowing. I thought I must have missed a month -- what can there possibly be to mow in March? The grass outside is still all sorts of brown, but freshly mowed it smells, well, green. Sweet and fresh and green. I love the daffodils and tulips just sneaking up through the dirt, and the new leaves are even starting on the trees. But it's the grass starting to green that finally feels like the ground is breathing again. Finally feels like Spring.

So to mark the shift, and to get some of that sweet green inside, we thrifted some easter baskets this week, lined them with old bags and dirt, and sprinkled wheat. I've read about people growing grass seed in their easter baskets, but I don't happen to have any on hand. I do, however, have about a dozen buckets of wheat ready for the sprouting (and grinding, and throwing, and chewing -- did you know that a mouthful of wheat chews into gum? or so the kids tell me . . . ).

The five year-old is in charge of watering. She's been using the spray bottle from the laundry room, and apparently misting is the magic touch. Either that or wheat is awfully quick to sprout. In three days we've gone from this:

To this:

At this rate, we're going to have to mow it before Easter ever arrives.