Harrumph!

While I am ecstatic that I have been able to cross-country ski so many times in Boston this winter, my seed packets sing little ditties to me. I have herbs, vegetables and flowers whispering to be from their flat packets in 20s and 50s.

Somehow, I can’t stop myself from obsessing on future foliage as I bike or walk about JP. It’s not time to start the seeds…not yet…not yet.

Today, it was all too evident on Lamartine Street, where the equivalent of a beachfront view is the Southwest Corridor with the Orange Line. Yet even there, aggressive plants proclaim their splendor. (Please forgive me. I am a certified Master Gardener. I can’t help myself.)

It appears while I wasn’t looking milkweed is poised to overtake JP. As evidence, I submit a couple of pix of 7-foot canes just waiting for spring moisture and plaint earth. It’s as though Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors had aged into white hair. The evil urge to thrive remains.

The wispy white pod floss and brown seeds care little for the snow, wind and cold. They can wait. Don’t be surprised if the 2008 version comes tapping at your windows.