I got my first seed catalog for Spring 2009 in the mail today. Which is hilarious, frankly. Somewhere out there, in a magical land with robins and daffodils and people wearing shorts in March, someone thinks it's almost time to plant things.
Up here? We won’t
even see
dirt until late April—maybe May if winter decides to throw a
tantrum on the way out. Right now the garden is under three feet of
snow, two layers of ice, and one slightly bitter sense of humor. I've got shovels
older than some of these seed catalog models, and right now they’re
buried in the shed under three broken rakes, a suspicious pile of
twine, and what I think
might be a hibernating raccoon with squatters’ rights.
To help you visualize where "up here" is, there’s a sign just 15 minutes north of me that proudly proclaims the 45th parallel. That’s right—smack dab halfway between the equator and the North Pole. I live in the “don’t even bother with a groundhog” zone. We just assume six more weeks of winter and keep feeding the wood stove like it's a bottomless pit.
So, while the seed companies try to tempt me with glossy pictures of tomatoes, zucchinis, and flowers that have never even heard of snow, I’ll be over here ice-chipping my barn door open and trying to remember what grass feels like.
Still, I’ll hang on to the catalog. Because one day—one day—the snow will melt, the mud will rise, and I’ll remember why I bother with this whole “growing food” thing in the first place.
Of course, if winter drags on much longer, the catalog may end up in the wood stove after all. It’s got nice, glossy pages—burns hot and fast. So I guess I’ll either dream of spring or stay warm. One or the other. Can't have it both ways in the north country.
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©2008 Sandy Davis | American Way Farm
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