By Rex Alphin

Ah, yes. You would think after just harvesting a crop a mere five months ago we would still be resting on its fruits, content to enjoy the memories. But no.

There is something that creeps over the body during the cold winter. It builds as we tinker with equipment and grows as we clean the shop.

By February, we are overcome completely, looking over the fields as the days grow longer. By March, it is screaming in our blood to do something with the land. And by April — oh my — come April, the land itself seems to be begging our company, to become our partner, our mate, our mistress once again.

“Bring me seed!” she says. “Let me show you, once again, what I can do.”

So we do. We load up our planters and drop little particles of life up and down the land. We drop them in neat rows in exact spacing. We drop them in the corners, along the fences, by the ditch banks, through the valleys, over the ridges, by the house, around the light poles and everywhere the land is beckoning.

Just beneath the surface we place them and gently pat the soil on top.

Then that happens which almost makes us drunk with delight. The astounding occurs, the spectacular takes place, the miraculous literally unfolds before our very eyes!

For out of the ground itself, green shoots come soaring through the crust and come to life, as if the earth is saying, “See here! See what I can do! Let me show you splendor as you’ve never seen before. For I am designed to bring forth life, to explode forth beauty that you may behold the miraculous once again. I will sculpt the land with color and wrap it in blankets of green. Come and behold.”

And so we do. We watch it and marvel, this spectacular show that changes daily. What a privilege. What an honor. What an opportunity we have to behold such glory.

Let the miracles come.

Rex Alphin of Walters is a farmer, businessman, author, county supervisor and contributing columnist for the Suffolk News-Herald. His email address is rexalphin@aol.com.