I love spring. Yep, when singling out my favorite of the Four Seasons, I'd have to go with Can't Take My Eyes Off You. Okay, so the spelling of sing-ling made the mind jump track back to my teen years but spring really is my most wonderful time of the year.

Some of the tulips continue to bloom and soften the greening landscape with their pastel hues. Admittedly, this is the first year that we've been able to enjoy such an array of blossoms. Usually, some rascally little varmints consume the plants as soon as they surface. However, the small memorial garden area that I planted in February to help avert my grief after our beloved little dog died, yielded a magnificent display of tulips, which were planted at the wrong time of the year with dried-out bulbs that hid in a bag on the back porch since last fall. That little fellow would be tail-wagging happy knowing that he continues to brighten my days.

Along with enjoying the amazing beauty of the season, comes the thrill of digging dirt. Yep, I love to dust off my little tiller and crank it up for some serious soil searching. Tilling time in the garden is one of my best stress relievers. Who would have ever thought that a gal born and raised in the city would rather spend her time turning tines than shopping at the mall? Oh how times have changed. These days my favorite maul is the lighter of the two that hang in the tractor shed.

On Saturday, I lifted the little ground mover and shaker from its spot in that shed. Within minutes, Tilly and I were smoking-literally. We headed across the graveled driveway toward the two small garden beds near the house. There, we broke ground together.

However, the weeds were a bit thicker than they appeared and reeled themselves around the tines. Realizing that they needed to be sprung before they bogged down the engine, I hesitantly flipped the stop switch, knowing all too well that I'd probably have trouble getting the machine started the second time. Okay, so I'll admit I'm not very mechanically oriented, especially when it comes to starting anything with a choke and a pull rope. If and when I do get an engine running, I usually try to keep it running until the task at hand is completed.

After freeing the tines, I decided I'd better manually weed the beds before doing any more tilling. About an hour later, the majority of the weeds had met their match and so had my knees and back. Figuring a bit of stretching would be a good idea, I headed back to the tractor shed for some fertilizer to sprinkle over the beds before trying to restart the tiller.

Within minutes of dusting the beds, my inner siren set-off my save the world mode as earthworms squirmed and squiggled in an attempt to escape the ravages of the granules of fertilizer. Back on my knees, I began rescuing the worms. Yep, there I was dusting fertilizer off earthworms and transferring them to fresher soil.

Of course, who should appear to catch me worm-handed but that man-of-mine. Shaking his head, he watched for a moment, shook his head again and waited for an explanation.

“They prefer organic,” I scoffed. “And, I didn't want to chop them up with the tiller. They're much too beneficial.”

Shaking his head, he reminded me of Biology 101 by offering, “Worms have regeneration powers.”

Not wanted to endanger any chance of getting his help to start the tiller, I flashed a huge smile and offered an exaggerated wink while attempting an inconspicuous transfer of a few more worms to safer ground.

Yep, spring is my favorite season even when I have to worm my way through the garden. Reckon there's any chance the hubby stayed around long enough to restart the tiller? KNOTT MUCH.