Today is the Winter Solstice

Only another gardener would understand why the Winter Solstice is important. No, we aren't doing any pagan rituals. It's the turning point toward Life and Living. That means a lot to a gardener.

After the Summer Solstice, we gardeners lose interest in gardening. Things don't want to grow well and  the soil is usually too dry. A Fall garden is usually a big waste of time and energy, with days still hot for the recommended cool crops. Plants sense the shift toward Death and Dying. It's Nature's way.

Now, the seed catalogs have started arriving. As usual, I don't look at them until Christmas Day. They are in a secure location, hidden from the Grinch. More should be arriving shortly.

Seed catalogs are some of my favorite presents.  I dream of them while cutting firewood. Incidentally, I cut, hauled and split 14 carts full, but a sudden really cold snap of minus 15 degrees both used up the wood and kept me from getting more. The ground is still covered with ice and snow, making my hills more than imposing.

Fortunately, a young cattle farmer nearby has come to my rescue. He's bringing a big truck load of wood tomorrow. For my money (literally) burning wood is cozier than burning propane.

Not looking at the catalogs or getting the seeds stash out does not preclude me from thinking about my veggie garden and flowers I might start indoors. These ideas are germinating in the warmth of the wood stove.

Happy Winter Solstice to all gardeners everywhere! May our numbers increase.

An Odd Christmas Tradition

Years ago, when my children were young, a peculiar Christmas tradition was started.  After the presents were all opened and things quieted down, my older daughter Isabelle and I opened the new seed catalogs.  We lived on a farm then, a farm that was lost in the flood of 1993.  Let's not speak of that heartbreak.

We gathered all our seed packets around us, in front of the wood stove, and made gardening plans.  We checked our notebooks for previous planting successes, if any.  With a 90 by 90 foot garden of fabulous loam enriched by goat manure and straw bedding, it was hard to be restrained.  It was slightly more than a grandiose idea, which resulted in canning and freezing enough to feed many families for a couple of years.

One year, we were especially profligate with the tomato starts, speaking of a dozen of this and that variety, until we wound up putting in eighty plants for our family of five. 

We were to learn that being comfortable in front of the fire turned out to be a lot different than weeding in the blazing summer sun.  This lesson is forgotten annually.

Izzy  is a mom now and we each have our gardens.  She was the only one of my three children to inherit the unfortunate addictive gardening gene.  My other daughter, Lissa,  and my son Chris cannot stand the smell of cooking tomatoes. 

The seed catalog project starts for me on Christmas Day and continues unabated for an indefinite time, during which I fill out orders and stick  Post-Its on pages.  Even though I won't start any seeds until February at the earliest, it is a very important time for me.  I must not be alone, because that's when they send the catalogs.