spitty spring

Yesterday, when talking about the weather, Caitlin described the spring as spitty.

I’m not sure spitty is a word.

My word processor certainly doesn’t think so.

But it’s entirely accurate. The gray days, the misty spitty mornings, lead to some really nice spinach. I’ve never grown really nice spinach in the spring, and it’s made me inordinately proud of myself. The color’s been spot-on, a nice mossy saturated green, and the plantings sized up quickly, with little or no insect damage. I did a smooth, spoon-shaped salad variety, and a big wrinkly savoy type. Both seemed the easiest thing in the world to sell - I guess just about everybody likes spinach. The most recent transplants aren’t doing as well. They’ll be the last ’till fall, when they’ll be back with a vengeance. I’m now a hopeless addict.