On hope of spring

We all know that TS Eliot had it wrong and that February is, in fact, the cruellest month. There's nothing to be said for it, no light, no warmth, no comfort - the only thing to do is huddle up and wait for spring.
So this morning I went through all of my seed packets writing down the earliest possible dates I could plant them and pulled out, cackling, all that allowed the possibility of February.
39 cells of my propagator are now full of potential and the possibility of redemption. And I think my fingers should recover movement within the next few hours.