When I was little, my mom and dad always planted the garden on May long...in my memories it was always a warm sunny day and my mom would come in at the end of a long day with a sunburned and sore back and my brother and I would come in with dirt under our nails and between our toes. I loved those days with the whole family 'playing' in the freshly tilled dirt - the smell of earth, the birdsongs filling the air, and the warmth and closeness.
That said, it was nothing like that this year when my boy and I planted our garden! It started out lovely and warm, except the ground was too wet to go into the garden in the morning. By the time, my little Bean was in bed, it was a little bit cooler but still lovely so we decided we'd start with potatoes. about 18 in, it started to pour! We finished in the mud...no time for the rest of the garden. Around 8:30, my boy insisted that we try to get the rest of the garden in...it was dry enough to go to the garden (though not dry by any means) and I reluctantly agreed. After last year's gardening fiasco (lots of rain + little sunshine = garden in late, short growing season, and a poor crop of everything), I REALLY wanted to give my garden the best possible chance.
Have you ever planted a garden at twilight? In the dark? I can now say that I have. I wasn't too excited about it, but, when I woke in the morning to rain, I was SO VERY THANKFUL we had planted it. Truthfully, although not the way I would choose to always plant a garden, it was really quite lovely. The birds continue singing, the wind dies away...it was peaceful, calm, and serene...it was perfect in it's own way.