In an ideal world, it would be full under here right now - all the seeds I just put in yesterday would have gone in six weeks ago. Better late than never. With any luck, they will be up in February, along with the garlic and favas in the left-most bed. No solstice salad, probably.
Oh well. One of the very best things about doing this is the feeling of continuity: the seasons rolling over, the years rolling round. There's always another chance.