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I planted spring bulbs in a light hail storm yesterday. The ground was soft after heavy rain the night before; digging was easy. I wore my husband's sailing gear - waterproof overalls and a matching jacket, rain boots and gardening gloves. I was overdressed, but I had fifty dollars of bulbs to put in the ground, bought hastily the other day after my friend Piia texted with the reminder to get bulbs in the ground, asap, before it freezes. I didn’t have time to mess around.
I bought the bulbs at Halifax Seed. I arrived just as woman in a teal Subaru was pulling up. She had bangs the same colour as her car. Together we dug through the dregs of their bulb collection, both with the frantic air of a late-November bulb shopper. Some were massive, the size of small onions, others looked like shriveled plums or bulbs of garlic. The blue banged woman and I carefully counted the bulbs by the dozen, tipped them into the paper bags provided, and scratched the names of the bulbs on the side of the bags.
Purple scilla.
Silver bells.
Full star pink.
Full star red.
White crocuses.
Grape hyacinth.
We both were grabbing at things, unknowing, but there was an understanding that we needed these bulbs. Winter stretches long into April in this part of the world. Pops of colour against the gray winter sky and cold black earth pull us through to mid-May, when spring begins in earnest.
“Have you heard the weather forecast for tomorrow?” I asked as we finished up our task. “It might freeze overnight,” she said, shrugging, “But just pour boiling water over the soil if you can’t get the shovel through. I’ve done that many times when planting garlic. Works like a charm.”
The bulbs sat on the floor of our cold, drafty porch until yesterday. It turns out the ground was soft from rain the night before. It was a sign, a gift of nature. But the sun would set in an hour. This was my window.
I used to be a big procrastinator. In high school I would clean my room and bake a double batch of chocolate chip cookies before I sat down to do homework. I wrote essays through the night in my first year of university, then printed them off on a dot-matrix while I showered before class. I remember my friend Mark standing in the hallway, waiting for me, while the printer screeched back and forth, back and forth. When I started writing freelance pieces for the local paper I filed each story so late there was never enough time for edits. I dreaded seeing my editor’s number on my phone display. Almost done? She’d ask, hopefully. Almost, I’d say. Almost.
I’m much better now. Things began to change when I realized the feeling of getting it done was better than putting it off. My husband’s grandfather always said, “why do it tomorrow when you can do it right now!” I will never be that fervent when attacking a to-do list, but I have tools and limitations to help me now: egg timers. A small desk of my own. Noise canceling headphones. A dog that needs walking. Kids with schedules. Weather patterns. They all help me get things done.
Most of the time. I’ve known about the annual cookie exchange for twelve months now. I have decided on my contribution (the ever popular peanut butter ball dipped in chocolate. I’ve shared the family history of those peanut butter balls over here). I have bought the ingredients. I even went to the hardware store, twice, to pick out a small scooper to shape the balls (I can hear my grandmother saying, “oh for goodness sake, what do you need a scooper for?” But I’m trying to up my game). The first time at the hardware store, the man at the counter held up the smallest scoop, a 1 ⅛’’, frowned and said, “I’d prefer a bigger peanut butter ball”. So I went bigger, 1 ⅝”, but really, they were too big. How would I ever get 80 made with that big scoop, by Friday? I went back and bought the smaller of the two.
The pro of procrastination means forward, as in promise, promote or progress. It can also mean for, as in sharing the pros of an argument. Procrastination is said to be the thief of time, it takes and doesn’t give it back. But there is also the gift of moving forward, of progressing, of getting it done. It’s a push and pull word, one that I, maybe we, will always wrestle with.
This brings me to right now, the day before the cookie exchange. The bulbs are nestled in the ground beneath soil frozen in the shape of my rubber boot treads. This story is almost written, but I still have thirty balls to roll and dip. I’ve employed a scoop then hand roll technique. The trip to the hardware store, I tell myself, was worth it. My sister arrives tonight from Vancouver. We are gathering the day after the cookie exchange for my father’s eightieth birthday. Her bed is made. The birthday dinner is planned. The birthday boy has requested lasagna and carrot cake. My husband made the sauce. I’m on pasta and cake. I can feel the rush of adrenaline pumping through me, the kind that comes with the crushing of tasks, last-minute. I don’t like it. But I like it.
And soon, I will have a freezer full of cookies, shining like a colourful bulb in spring, ready, just when I need them.
Chocolate Peanut Butter Balls
My Aunt Susan’s recipe. I’ve done something radical this year and added a touch of natural peanut butter to the recipe. It doesn’t affect the texture, and it mellows the sweetness, just enough.
2/3 cup smooth peanut butter
⅓ cup natural smooth peanut butter
4 tablespoons butter, softened
1 cup icing sugar
1/2 cup desiccated coconut
1 cup Rice Krispies
250g dark chocolate
1 teaspoon oil, to loosen the melted chocolate if too thick (I used coconut oil)
sea salt crystals, to finish – optional
In a large bowl mix together the peanut butters, butter and icing sugar. Add the coconut and Rice Krispies. Stir to combine. Roll into balls (chill first if mixture is too soft.) Meanwhile, melt chocolate in a double boiler or a bowl suspended over a saucepan. Line a cookie sheet with wax paper. Coat the balls in melted chocolate, place on a cookie sheet, sprinkle with sea salt (optional!) and refrigerate or freeze.
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