Just as I prepared to head out into the garden to do a block-leveling project, a light spring rain blew up. The skies darkened a little and, as I opened the door to estimate the storm’s power, the most amazing scents met me. Nothing smells as fresh a spring rain. Try as they might to capture the smell of “fresh,” makers of dryer sheets and air fresheners cannot match the delicious breeze that came in my door.

Two years back, a colleague of Jim’s gave him a currant bush from her garden to transplant to our garden. Previously she’d been bemoaned the fact that she’d had currant bushes in her yard and no idea what to do with the currents they produced. Jim suggested that she make currant jelly, which she did, with rousing success. To reward Jim for his encouragement, she gave him an offshoot to plant in our yard.

We planted the tiny bush in the back part of the garden. Then, over the course of several weeks, we proceed to “weed” the little bugger out — not once, not twice– but three times. (One time was my fault, one time Jim’s, and the third I cannot recall.) As a gardener, there are few things more upsetting than suddenly recognizing the plant in your hand, the one that you’ve just tugged out of the ground. Amazingly enough, we did not kill the currant bush, although I must say we did a good job of discouraging it from growing very much that season.

Then we decided to build a new barn hazardously close to where our currant bush was planted so we had to move it. This time, we used a shovel and carefully transported the bush to a safe location.

Fast forward to the present time. Our current bush is thriving. Yes, thriving. In spite of our rather rough and unwelcoming start, our currant bush is full of buds and very much at home in our garden. I’ll need to get that recipe for current jelly.