Hi neighbors. Our simulated spring was short. Did you miss it? I fear there are some really surprised robins hopping around town.

Still, this whole winter thing may not last long. We did need some freezing days and nights to thin down the bug population before the real spring appears.

As the promise of spring keeps insisting on "do-overs" this year, you may be wondering when to start gardening.

I haven't gardened in so long I don't remember all the "times and seasons" a person is supposed to know to plant at the right time.

Some experienced gardeners say peas should be planted by St. Patrick's Day. Or maybe that was potatoes? I'm certain it wasn't tomatoes.

There was a time when I was involved with a garden for several years. One year in particular, I recall having more than 40 tomato plants to care for.

Why would anyone want all those 40 tomato plants you might ask? I have no idea would be my answer. But having done it once, I can tell you it is not a good idea. Unless you raise box turtles.

These tomato plants thrived under tender loving care. They received lots of watering, fertilizer, weeding, etc. Being grateful, they produced -- continuously and repeatedly.

After eating enough fresh tomatoes to almost turn me against them for life, I canned. After I used up all my jars, and bought the last three cases, each holding a dozen jars still in the stores, I froze tomatoes.

What was left over was wrapped green and stored before the first frost. We had fresh tomatoes for Thanksgiving as these late arrivals ripened.

That was the year of the tomatoes. There was also a year of green beans. Have you ever had nightmares about picking, breaking, cleaning and canning green beans? If not, its safe to assume you have never grown several dozen green bean plants.

Now I have a potted plant of Christmas cactus and another pot filled with peppermint. That is the extent of my gardening.

Through the years I have tried to live the great 1960s hippie dream of being in harmony with the earth. Although I've never lived on a "homestead" with chickens and goats, I have had delusions of being the independent, self-supporting pioneer type that the '60s hyped as the ideal.

Usually I've not succeeded too well at it.

I bought some books once on how to do all the "handy" things like shear sheep, card wool, weave rugs, tie-dye T-shirts, make candles and stuff like that.

Still the only rug I've ever made was one I worked on with my grandmother. It ended up looking more like a large floppy bowl than a rug.

In high school the ever patient home economics teacher tried to teach me to sew and to knit. I did the sewing fine, at least passably.

The knitting was a trial, but finally I finished the required pair of house shoes. That was many years ago. Although I can still make a decent pair of house shoes, my knitting skills have not advanced.

An aunt taught me to crochet. I have mastered a mean single knit, single pearl combo stitch -- but nothing else.

Still, the pioneer spirit is strong even if the skills are lacking.

I like to imagine I could do these survival things if the need was great enough.

There is a show on television called Survivorman where a guy is left on his own for several days in various types of wilderness areas. Most of the things he comes up with seem plausible, but I've never understood why he waits until the second or third day to start setting traps for food. Seems to me that would be the first thing to do.

Of course he never has a gun to hunt with.

On television the other day there was a news show about the decline of hunters across the country. Interestingly enough, even with the overall numbers decreasing, the number of female hunters has increased by 20 percent.

Hunting isn't something I do. I don't mind target practice shooting. The main difference between the two types of gun sport are not killing something with target practice. That, and the fact that most hunting adventures include long hikes in brushy with ticks, mosquitoes, poisonous plants and the possibility of bulls being around. Target practice is usually somewhere you can drive to without wading a creek or climbing a bluff.

Until the next time friends remember, to every thing there is a season. Trying to figure out which season it is seems more difficult these days.