Infernal waiting.
Snow after snow after miserable, frozen commute, I am taunted by emails that say, “Your seed order has been received!” or “Your seeds have shipped!” And I know…it will be months before I get my fingers into the dark earth again. The words of Whittier sneak in to my ears, while I try to keep images of morning glorys before my eyes.
I ordered “Grandpa Ott’s Morning Glory” seeds this year. I have the perfect telephone pole picked out just for them. Standing tall by our stone wall, in direct line-of-sight to the reservoir beyond (which we can see now, but will be unable to see in the leafy summertime), the pole will be adorned by deep purple and pink blooms, and I cannot wait.
Lest I sound like a whiner, I have gotten better at appreciating the winter, instead of viewing it as the Enemy between me and the garden. I heard someone say once, “I hate the winter! It is as if the whole world died!” I look at winter, instead, as the Big Sleep, with the garden resting up to be ready for ME next spring. I’m not dead, I’m ready to go! Every spring I have ideas, plans, and energy, and that garden had BETTER be rested, because I’m coming at it full tilt.
Winter is my garden’s only hope against the Onslaught of Amy in April.
I have a new seed rack by my office window, waiting for trays of soil blocks that will cradle beautiful seeds. (And I will photograph my 2011 seeds for you, as soon as the email promises are realized.) I have the beds sketched out in my garden book, with each bit of earth assigned. I have a list of chores made, the tasks needed to usher in the Garden of 2011. Instead of laying down palm fronds to make straight the paths, I will edge the beds with a spade and spread compost with a shovel. I will plug that last possible hole in the fence against the rabbits. I will lay down fresh straw in the walkways between the beds.
All this I will do. But for now, I wait.
WORDS FROM OTHERS
“The shrieking of the mindless wind,
The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind,
And on the glass the unmeaning beat
Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet.”
— excerpt from “Snowbound,” by John Greenleaf Whittier
Amy in the Garden 
I always loved winter-a time for the garden AND us to rest and fulfill other hobbies. But, now it’s almost February and it seems like EVERYONE on the net is starting seeds, which makes me sad because I still have 2 full months until I can start seeds and 4 months until I can plant them outside. Now THAT is a bummer!
I smiled when I read your post-I feel the same way. I could just live out in my garden come summer!
Me, too — It’s at this point every year when I wonder if I’ve just hallucinated the warm weather of the last summer. Did I ever sit outside and feel sun on my face?! Did I ever peel off a sweatshirt because I was HOT?!