| They promise forty-pound beets, rhubarb that tastes like wine, tomatoes that look like stained-glass windows, and world salvation. It doesn’t hurt to dream.  Illustration by Nolan Pelletier Groundhog Day is a distant memory. The Ides of March is in the rearview mirror. St. Patrick’s Day is upon us. In the melty but still dreary final days of winter, treat yourself to a moment of optimism, in the form of Jill Lepore’s funny, wide-ranging, and deeply wise essay from this week’s issue on the joy of reading seed catalogues. As Lepore writes, “Seed and garden catalogues sell a magical, boozy, Jack-and-the-beanstalk promise: the coming of spring, the rapture of bloom, the fleshy, wet, watermelon-and-lemon tang of summer. Trade your last cow for a handful of beans to grow a beanstalk as high as the sky. They make strangely compelling reading, like a village mystery or the back of a cereal box. Also, you can buy seeds from them.” Maybe this will be the year you grow that perfect tomato—or at least imagine becoming the kind of person who could. Do you listen to our Fiction, Writer’s Voice, or Poetry podcasts? We’d like to know what you think. Take a brief survey » | 
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