Spring, warm day, mostly clear bright blue sky, soft cool breeze, grass just starting to turn green, trees still bare, birds starting to return from their southern wintering grounds, time to start digging in the dirt. Many gardening projects to attend to before things really start growing. This is the in between time, when spring is here pregnant with possibility, but nothing has started to grow yet, no green, all old tired browns and greys. I have several small trees to transplant to different locations. Shovel in glove protected hand, actual shoes and socks on my feet, I start digging. The ground is wet from recent rain, heavy, and sticks to the shovel. The musky, tangy smell of moist fertile earth tantalizes my nostrils; it starts a song in my soul, a lullaby to the the sleeping plants, telling them soon they will awaken and grow.