Peeking Chickadee
Sunflower with Gnome Cap
Last week my 4 year old son asked me numerous times if we could dig in the garden. In his young mind, without a glance out the window, he was completely prepared to shove his kid sized spade into the soft garden earth and let go of the fact that there was two feet of snow covering that dirt. When I reminded him of the frozen qualities of the outside world, he said “So?”. There is a part of me that wishes I could live in a timeless reality, where I wasn’t counting the weeks of snow left and the months before last frost, where it could be sunny and 70 if I needed a little warmth.
A few nights ago, I vividly dreamt my husband and I were in the garden planting onion seedlings. We were gingerly separating tender green blades and tangled white roots. It was a beautiful spring day. This was my brief interlude in my scheduled reality, but was fleeting.
It sounds like I am pining for spring, when actually I am not. I cherish winter. In winter we go outside to play, not work. We sled, ski, and roll around in the snow. We don’t hang out laundry, weed or mow. And there is still plenty to take pleasure in, like the chickadee in this picture that kept a keen eye on us from his snug abode as we played one day and the sunflowers with their gnome caps. The snow melts revealing gooey mud. Then ice coats everything making a walk of ten feet treacherous and then it snows again, softening the world over.
But, I have started thinking about spring. There is a flutter of excitement as I mentally plan the garden. I have not ordered seeds yet. I will dig into that favorite of tasks any day now. And soon I will tromp down to the basement to hook up lights, fill pots with sweet smelling soil and make labels. Then the fever will begin.
