If I was queen of the universe, I’d make March the first month of the year.

My hens, having lately been released into the fresh air, finally started laying and this morning we had the first breakfast with our own eggs since November. Our does and ewes are all about to give birth. Neighbors are delivering calves. The melting snow reveals green growing things underneath, and yesterday I started seeds in flats and put them to germinate next to the warm fire inside the house. While I don’t yet have Christmas decorations moved out of the basement and stored in the barn, I am nevertheless celebrating my New Year’s Day – I’ve planted the first seeds of the growing season, and so the cycle of life here on the farm has begun.

I endured a fair amount of sleepless nights this past week – the list of things to accomplish in spring is always daunting, and while the weather’s stayed cold I’ve had to put tasks off and put my energy into worrying about them instead. Will I get the onions started in time to bulb up before the days are too short? Will the ground thaw in time for me to plant peas that can pod up before the heat hits? Are the dairy does in good enough shape after the long harsh winter to give birth without succumbing to nutrition-induced ketosis? Do I really have time to take care of all the expensive turkeys I ordered? Will the ducks eat the garden instead of the slugs? Will anyone want to buy heritage turkeys or ducks come fall, anyway?

Working is far less stressful than worrying, however, and now that seeds are in the dirt, I’m a lot happier and getting more sleep. Studying seed packets has got me dreaming about delicious crops instead of mulling over possible disasters.

Planted so far are Bonilla shallots; Lincoln, King Richard and American Flag leeks; Frontier yellow storage onions and Mars and Ruby Ring red bulb onions. Some of the last crops to mature in the garden are those that must be started earliest, which is something one could worry about if one was so inclined. There will be lots of weeding between these tiny black seeds and a voluptuous big-bulbed harvest. Onions are day-length dependent – if these don’t get about 100 days in before the sun starts receding, they won’t be so hot. On a more light-hearted note, I also started edible pansies in shades of pink, purple lavender, blue delphiniums and mixed lupines. Last year I never got around to starting any flowers, so that’s a 2008 victory already.

This weekend I’ll start a market’s worth of above-ground crops in flats: Rodynda and Regal red cabbage; Early Jersey Wakefield green cabbage; Sierra, Green Forest, Nevada and Cimmaron head lettuces; Roquette arugula; Champion collards; Titan leaf parsley; Di Cicco Broccoli and Early Vienna white and purple kohlrabi. Most of these will be on the table by June. The exception is Long Island Brussels Sprouts, a brassica of dubious popularity that will have to weather weeds and flea beetles through the entire growing season before it meets a buttery end after the first frost.

All of the previously mentioned sowings will have to germinate in makeshift garbage-bag greenhouses next to my living room woodstove. At the first sign of sprouts, they’ll move to grow-light shelving in my mudroom and guest bedroom. When weather permits, they’ll graduate to my horse-poop-heated cold frames just outside the house. After putting up a sturdy stem and a few true leaves, they’ll be transplanted to their garden homes, if the dirt there has dried out enough to be cultivated and weeded.

But whenever the ice is off the gardens, hopefully sometime in the next six days which are predicted to be in the 40s, I’ll be able sow traditional cool season crops directly into the chilly soil: Dwarf Grey sugar peas; Sugar Ann snap peas; Oregon Sugar Pod snow peas; Cherry Belle, Watermelon, and French Breakfast radish; Bright Lights Swiss chard; Danvers, Chantenay Royal and Purple Dragon carrots; Kaleidoscope Looseleaf baby greens; Scarlet Queen salad turnips and Tyee spinach. We could be enjoying these by May, but I’ll also have to start parsnips and rutabagas first thing, though they won’t come out of the ground until October.

So the season begins and empty seed packets pile up. The sun and sleep return. Worry gives way to the dreamless exhaustion of nights that follow days of good hard work. Now the only thing that can possibly keep me up is thinking about that unfinished Winter To-Do List. Happy New Year!