If I were a more prudent gardener, I would not have done what I did Saturday. But I am convinced that every once in a while, flagrant breaches of moderation are good for the soul, if not for the body.

Proof of my excesses begins with the patches of sun-and-wind burn I now sport on the backs of my neck, knees, calves and upper arms. After six hours outdoors, I am enjoying the telltale sting that signals the beginning of the late-spring planting season.

What vegetable gardeners get is different from the “farmer’s tan” that covers the back of the neck, the face and three-quarters of each arm. Because tilling, planting and weeding are face-down activities, vegetable gardeners tend to brown on the back side, and only on those body parts that face upward. So the top of the calf gets sun exposure, while the back of the thigh does not.

I like to think of the resulting tan as a mark of distinction. Millions of people pay every week to lie in a tanning bed and change their skin color. They place a premium on an even tan, but I’ll take my patchy gardening tan any day. You can’t buy this tan; it can be had only through the effort and passion that planting a vegetable garden entails.

What gardening lacks in glamour, it makes up for in its value as a form of physical exercise. At the beginning of each growing season, gardeners use muscles that have lain dormant since they cleaned off the garden in the fall. Because of the extensive amount of squatting, bending and kneeling required, planting and weeding are particularly efficient ways to exercise (and strain) the gluts and quads. Skiing comes closest to replicating the physical activity of gardening, I think.

The other possibly imprudent thing I did Saturday was to dive into the planting of the actual summer garden. I set out my first wave of tomato plants and seeded two rows of bush beans. Given the erratic weather we’ve had this spring, this was something of a leap of faith. But I also was playing the odds.

Because April 20 is the average date of the last killing frost in this part of the state and the seven-day forecast called for overnight lows no cooler than the 50s, the gamble is likely to pay off. If so, I will have early tomatoes and a good crop of green beans in mid- to late June.

If the temperatures drop and the soil stays cool and damp, a lethal combination for both beans and tomatoes, the worst that can happen is I will lose six tomato plants and the first seeding of beans. Early in the season, do-overs are not only allowed but encouraged. Besides, my plan calls for seeding beans again in 10 days and 20 days and for putting the rest of my tomatoes out around May 1. At that time, I’ll also start setting out peppers and planting the rest of my hot-weather crops.

I have to say that I found something therapeutic in planting hot-weather crops this weekend. When I walk to my garden, I pass beds of daylilies, irises and autumn sedum that were decimated by the freeze and snowstorm earlier this month. In this context, planting felt like an act of both defiance and affirmation. To postpone the start of planting out of concern for another late cold snap would have seemed like surrender.

As it happened, the asparagus agreed with me. On Saturday with the sun beating down, warming the soil, the asparagus were again standing tall, after their growing season was interrupted by the freeze. If you believe in omens, spring is here for good.