I had high hopes. The groundhog saw his shadow. Spring would arrive early this year.

And so, on that cold winter day, I made my way down to Reny’s, bought piles of winter clothes that had hit the deep discount rack, and then feasted my eyes on the spring display of seeds, starter kits and soil. Cosmos, zinias and marigold seed packs priced at 10 cents each were too good to pass up, I thought. This year, I’ll do it right. Start the seeds indoors at the right time, feed them properly, and when it comes time for planting, my leggy failures of years past won’t be traded in for the lush, lively started plants from the garden center.

So there I was, looking at those seed packets – it was time to start the seeds, but it didn’t seem possible. It was snowing, and another snow storm was forecast for the weekend. What’s up with that groundhog? While the snow fell, I planted the seeds.

Covered with plastic, the germination step was easy. Leave them alone for six to eight days. It was the perfect time to take off for spring vacation. I gathered my gardening magazines and laptop computer. This was to be my working vacation – a computer, cell phone and e-mail was all that I’d need this week. The place had a pool, game room and arcade, so everyone in the family would be happy.

As we prepared to go, the warning of coastal flooding, high winds and two feet of snow in the mountains altered the plans a bit. My husband opted out of the weekend in New Hampshire with us. Tending the sump pump would be his job. We packed winter fleece and skis – Mother Nature has me baffled these days.

Off we went on vacation. By noon of the next day, the driving rain had begun. The idea of skiing was scrapped. I reminded myself that this was April, and April showers bring May flowers. Rain is normal this time of year. It’s time to get out of winter mode.

By Monday morning, nothing was normal. The call came through. Work was canceled, trees and telephone polls were down, roads were closed, the power was out, cell phones and land lines didn’t work, and the basement was flooding. In search of a generator, my husband took to the roads. The race was on. The rain was coming down sideways. Would he get home before the flooded road would be impassable? As the rain came down, his call was cut short. “I need to concentrate on my driving,” he said.

He was right. I turned on the TV and watched the news. Roads that appeared water covered had been washed out, trees and wires were coming down all over the place. From my safe vacation headquarters, my communication was cut off, but great TV coverage had me well aware of what was going on at home. And I wasn’t at all happy that my husband was driving around, and that I was unable to contact him. Did he really know the dangers of driving on water-covered roads?

By the end of the week, services were restored. As I prepared to come home, I inquired about the seeds I had started before I left. My husband had paid no attention to them. He reported that they had germinated and had stretched tall to the plastic. “Remove the plastic,” I ordered. Next step: bottom water with fish emulsion was the instructions I had read from the gardening books. A trip to the garden center was added to the stops planned on the way home.

As the sun shone brightly for the ride home ,it was hot, and I shed my winter fleece. The sign greeted me at O’Donels Nursery: Open house weekend. Across the street were the orange cones and downed power lines – reminders of days earlier. It was Earth Day. People were out in force shopping for the season. The seed racks beckoned me again. Perhaps we’ll plant peas and lettuce, I thought. The instructions said: “Plant outside as soon as you can work the soil.”

The snow had been washed away. I traded in my winter clothes for summer, and hit the garden. Removing the mulch and yard debris revealed a garden alive and sprouting with new life. Mother Nature was hard at work despite all the bizarre weather and destruction.

It was nice to see the sunshine, warm temperatures and everyone out working and recreating. It seems a stretch to call this an early spring, but I’m not so sure I want to second guess Mother Nature. She’s in charge.