It has been, unfairly in my opinion, too cold for too long. This month, twenty or more degrees below average. And January–speak not its name. Frigid, wet/frozen, dark–yuck.
I know, whine whine. Winter’s supposed to be that way. It makes Spring all the more welcome.
Ah, Spring. I want to transport myself there (minus the rain and the tornadoes–I’m talking fantasy here). I want to smell the hyacinths and watch the pale salmon blueberry buds pop into bloom. I want to get out into that vegetable garden and plant something.
But, I think my imagination is getting a little stale and I believe I packed my warm weather memories away with my short-sleeved wardrobe. All I can think about is that I haven’t felt my toes since October and the garden looks like a hog waller.
Help me. Describe your favorite things about Spring. Paint me a picture. I got the cabin fever and old man winter’s got no love for me anytime soon.
Dream a little dream of green . . .
Oh how aptly you describe my feelings about this season of darkness.
I long for green grass, green buds appearing on trees. Blue skies with puffy cotton clouds. Smell of fresh turned dirt and sounds of kids laughing outside. The feel of spring breezes as I swing on the front porch. The birds singing and the cats tails twitching in the windows as they plan on how to hunt them(not that they ever get outside to get a chance).
Oh spring, you have to come along soon. All the good memories are starting to fade.
Dragonflies, Morning Glories and their Sister, mOOnvine, My Beauty Garden filled with Lavendar, Pathcouli, Chamomile. One of my most cherished things to do is when The Man takes Me to the nursery and buys Me new roses, from deep purplish burgundy to cocoa to pastel pink, with a splash of Gingersnap {orange~ish color}. I should be going next week, because that’s usually his Valentines gift to Me.
Ahhh, spring. It is taking too long to come this year. Seems like a really long winter here. Dreaming of the seeds I ordered, plowing the garden up and incorporating all the goat and chicken manure. And as soon as the seed goes in the ground, I go out the next morning to see if it’s coming up. Roses in bloom, honeysuckle, lilacs. Kids and grandkids coming out on the weekend to fish, mow the yard, and help around the place. Love having everyone home.
Ruffly gerber daisy leaves, fat thick surprise lily leaves (which are even now peeking up from the unrelenting mud of the wet, cold weeks) I even love the dandelions! The tiny new leaves on the shrubs, the azalea blooms, the bright flowers of the anemones de Caan whose green leaves have survived all winter. Gotta go peek and see if there are any buds on those babies tomorrow. They usually bloom in March…just a few weeks. We can make it!
Dreaming of longer warmer days watching the birds building their nests, witnessing the landscape around me change into a lush vision of loveliness, my daughters helping me plant my containers with sweet smelling flowers, the grandchildren digging in the dirt and sometimes the freshly planted pots, sitting on the front porch in my rocking chair sipping on a cup of tea listening to all the sounds of spring, watching, waiting for the mailman to bring my long awaited package of gardening items, smelling the fresh air after a cleansing rain, being in love with God’s beautiful creation after a long winters sleep. And as I awaken to see all is still sleeping the long winters sleep that makes it possible for the emergence of new life once more I sigh. Aahh the days of my favorite season, how long must I await your arrival to bask in your glorious beauty in order to feel the fullfillment of my cabin fever dreams?
In this frigid weather, onions are peeking out of the ground growing madly underground in unfrozen areas. Grandmother planted snowflowers and a few are still here–they will push their little blue flowers up through the snow after they are done the crocus come out. As for getting seeds in, my shovel bounced back at me after hitting ice–so will wait on that a few weeks.
We here in the Pac NW don’t really have anything that could be considered a favourite for a gardener itchin’ to get growin’. Tornetial rains, 60 degree days one day, 40 the next, pea soup fog til 2 in the afternoon…..it’s a mess.
This year has been amazing for us though (sadly at the expense of the rest of the 47 States in our vacinity. 50-60 degree January days–with sunshine even!! That right there is a favourite of this former Arizona Desert Rat. Rhubarb is bursting through the ground. Berries are budding out. The hummingbirds and Flickers have returned to visit. And most importantly, the best thing about Spring now, is when i head out back to take care of the Ladies of Laying, there are actually a few sweet little blue eggs in the nest. Yea for the longer, and warmer, days to come! Woo hoo!
Think Spring,
Whit
P.S., i was getting a little antsy a couple weeks ago, so i revisited your free garden planners and started to work on my own. Thank you both so much for that resource!
I’m in central coastal California. Please don’t hate me. I noticed yesterday that the plum tree is blossoming. You’d think that after 12 years in this climate, I might remember that I have to prune the trees *way* before the end of February which was appropriate where I used to live… It’s also time to mow the (postage stamp sized) front lawn, regret that I didn’t manage to plant the rest of the bulbs (the few that are in the ground will look lovely in a month or so) and try to figure out what to do next to improve the yard, keeping in mind the drought and the threats of water rationing this summer.
Sometimes I miss having distinct seasons, and having time in the winter to plan and dream for the warm seasons.
I am so ready for spring! Winter just drags on and on around here. My favorite part of spring is finally being able to plant some veggies. I have ordered my seeds and am ready. But first a couple feet of snow has to melt.
I am dreaming with you! I curse winter before it’s even begun. I’m ready for it to be over as soon as it starts. It does make spring all the more sweeter.
We must be on the same wavelength, I was just feeling desperate for some green, too. In fact, I’m planning to make terrariums with the kids and start a hydroponic herb garden.
As for spring…I want my wild violets! Every spring they are among the first intrepid flowers to come up, sometimes showing vivid purple and green against a late snow as though to say, “Spring is here now! Take THAT, winter!” Coltsfoot and dandelion and forsythia will bring on notes of bright yellow even when it’s still cold and rainy. And later on…I can’t wait for the apple blossoms to bloom and then drift everywhere from the orchard across the street from my house. I’m ready for spring!
Wow, y’all. Such beautiful, evocative imagery. If I close my eyes I think I can smell those apple blossoms, feel the warm breeze. This has really helped. Barefoot weather is just around the bend. Or so I keep telling myself.
THANK YOU!!!
I had to join in. I’ve been suffering from the winter doldrums too.
Where I live it’s winter until April, then 2 months of spring, 2 of summer, 2 of fall and back to winter again. We learn to appreciate the “little things:” the smell of the earth as the snow melts, that marshy insistence of green that tangs the tongue when we breath in the air; the dandelion greens to revivify our blood after a too-long winter; the days when you slip out of your jacket and feel the faint warmth of the sun on your back and neck; the return of the birds and the wheeling of the gulls above a melting harbour; running through puddles with the children and the first day we allow them to take of their rainboots and run barefoot; the search for the first crocus and the excitement as we see its picture in the paper; the first visit to the playground bereft of snowbanks and walking along the river pregnant with the swelling of winter melt and spring rain; watching the ice leave the harbour and anticipating the icebergs and whales.
Not sure if that’s made me feel better or worse . . .
For you and all you readers with itchy green thumbs. With love.
Aria
Eileen Button
Beneath
two feet of snow
and frozen earth
she adjusts her skirt
and tunes her beauty
while she waits for the curtain to lift.
In the cold, dark theater
I shiver in anticipation,
the memory of her song
keeps me from dying.
Of this I am confident:
when I see her again
it will be like the very first time.
Restless,
I fidget in my chair.
Oh, the wait is long!
Perhaps her performance has been cancelled?
I stare at the dark, heavy curtain
willing it
to rise.
Eileen–Gorgeous. Thank you. Lovely metaphor.
Dara–Perfect.
Is there a natural way to get rid of Lace bugs?
Cheryl–Here’s some info to try out:
http://www.ladybug.uconn.edu/factsheets/tp_05_lacebugs.html
Hope it helps!