As I type this, Aaron Copeland's Appalachian Spring is oozing from the computer speakers. It's not a blaring song, or even one that sounds great with the volume cranked up, but one that just floats from the two black boxes over the desk and keyboards. Spring fever is coming.

As much as I like the crispness of winter's snow, the fires of autumn's leaves and the warmth of summer when my feet finally thaw out for three months, spring's beauty is really unsurpassed.

Some early bulbs will announce the coming change first. Snowdrops and winter aconites pop up, coupled with the Helleborus that has been around since Christmas. Witchhazel branches will flower their gold, red or white and thumb their proverbially petals if it turns cold. Then the other trees and shrubs let loose.

Spring is the time for the planting bug to re-appear. Some call it a disease or an addiction, but that's really only when others are talking about the effect on their friends or me. I, on the other hand, refer to it as an "itch," or a "spring tonic," that isn't a drink.

My New Year's resolution is to "Limit my purchase of new plants that go into the planting beds this year to hardly any." That's exactly what it says on the piece of paper I wrote.

Now a good lawyer, and there are some out there, would say there is a whole lot of wiggle room in my phrase.

Working backward first, "hardly any" is not the same as "none." It may be one or two or three or four or five or six or something along that line. Compared to some of my friends, it may be 100, but I doubt that. But to say "none" is to stick my head in the soil and believe that nothing will die.

The other "out" is the "go into the planting beds." Pots on the stoop or patio are another story.

Personally, I think pots are underrated and more people should use them. They're perfect for annual flowers and some of the vegetables. Last year, I stuck four or five in the shade filled with impatiens. I placed the pots on top of an overturned pot, giving more height to the planting.

I've even potted specimens that need full sun such as geraniums and vinca, and then when guests came over, I hastily moved the pots to the shade, watching my friends' amazement at my supposedly prowess and green thumb at growing sun-loving plants in the shade. You can use my non-patented technique.

It's also my intent to possibly create a couple of new planting beds. At the time of the resolution, those beds aren't there, so they really can't be considered. There has to be some legal phrase that I'm not familiar with that handles that situation. New is new and old is old. It would be like putting a brand new addition on your house and not decorating it. Of course, you have to.

Finally, there is that singular word "purchase" that allows me to accept donated cuttings, seedlings, divisions or bulbs from others. With others in the same boat, it's a nice way to trade plants. Seriously, does someone need 12 tomato plants? Of course not. And haven't we all been taught to share?

In my mind is my grand scheme of things for my yard in 2003. There's no doubt it will be changed throughout the growing season. Some of the ideas will be jotted down on a piece of paper, which is the correct thing to do, so the correct number of plants can be obtained for any new areas without appearing crowded.

And I will continue to realize that plants should not be addictive, and there is no need to keep up with my other gardening friends. And if I throw away a living plant, I will not be consumed by a fiery bolt of lightning. I hope.

David Robson is an Extension Educator, Horticulture, at the Springfield Extension Center, University of Illinois Extension. You can write to Robson in care of Illinois Country Living, P.O. Box 3787, Springfield, IL 62708. Telephone: (217) 782-6515. E-Mail: drobson@uiuc.edu

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