I’m proud to say I’m one of those “winter gardeners,” the type whose passion isn’t squelched by the dormancy of the season. I love bare branches, winter birds and the views unveiled by the absence of leaf cover. This year was no exception – until the first day of March.
As February made its glorious retreat, I scrawled “good riddance” in red over that page of the calendar and revealed “March” in all its manic splendor. I know we’ll witness 79 degrees and an inch or two of snow in the span of 31 days … maybe even one week.
Now I’m stockpiling seed packets and fogging up the windows ogling my landscape beds, praying for signs of life. I bought the first flat of pansies I saw and I have a new pair of gloves I’m dying to muddy up. My beds and pots are already cleared for a fresh start. I think this winter may have gotten the best of me, of all of us.
I see it on our faces. We’ve all aged just a smidge. Not to mention, if you aren’t about to claw one eye from each of your housemates then you’re a better person than I am.
We need dewy air and vibrant colors. Just watch how fluffy the days become when we can all step outside and draw in spring. This month will find me with my face in a big bag of potting mix, inhaling the aroma, then reveling in the joy of a pot of petals on the porch. There’s nowhere to go from here, but up.
So, if you need me, I’ll be outside inspecting bark for winter damage and dusting off daffodil noses. I’m confident that Mother Nature will finally chase off that old man winter. Even though she’ll probably use a tornado but, whatever. Happy spring!