Growing season has begun, at least for those people who live in somewhat warmer climates or have cold frames or greenhouses. I remember that having a garden made the winter so much more bearable. There were decisions to be made and plans to make, and you could just feel the crocuses and snowdrops underground, waiting for showtime. My current apartment doesn't have access to a yard nor a porch nor even a fire escape. Winter seems very, very long.
So I press my nose up against the computer screen and look with yearning at the pictures posted by everyone who is planting seeds. I have just one thing to say: don't tell me to keep a a pot of herbs on my windowsill. I hear that a lot: "If you can't have a garden, you can always have a pot of herbs on your windowsill!" No, you can't. Not if you have cats who destroy plants with a patented combo-method of eating and knocking over. Not if your south-facing windows are under a tree. I've killed enough pots of rosemary for one lifetime, don't encourage more carnage.