Answering the Garden's Call

This past Saturday the weather went totally crazy, with temperatures up into the low 70's and plenty of sunshine before a storm tore through and took it down to 28 degrees with snow showers overnight! All I could think about as the temperature went up high enough for me throw open the windows was the pull of my tiny tabletop garden. It called to me: "Perfect day for a clean-up, don't you think?"  So I grabbed my hand tools and went to work.

There is something about spring that calls to the gardener within us like bees to flowers. Visions of plants and flowers bursting into bloom, and ideas for new arrangements, or trying out new plants, flood our minds and hearts. It is our way of shaking off the winter gloom and welcoming in new possibilities. It doesn't have to be a huge garden. It can be pots on a window sill, or, like mine, a small table set up in a safe spot where, with a little work (and lots of YouTube videos), a few pots and a grow light, it can be your own secret garden.

This year I rearranged the entire garden, moving the fairy garden up front:

Gave the larger plants more room - the begonias spent the winter doubling in size!

Can you see the little cat thermometer hiding behind the leaves?

Everyone got a good pruning, had their soil aerated, and got a healthy drink. I won't be adding any new plants just yet. I have lived up here long enough to know that, even with a grow light, we can get hit with an April snowstorm and below freezing overnight temps that will challenge anything new, especially if I'm starting from seed or introducing something that was grown in a hot house. I will wait at least until mid-May to go plant shopping. As for starting plants from seed, while I haven't been successful in doing so in this location, I am contemplating purchasing or creating a mini-greenhouse to give them a better chance of surviving. Just thinking about going shopping for gardening supplies puts a smile on my face!

Sometimes, especially after a long, cold, gloomy winter, it's not the big things that bring us joy, but the little things, things we do with our own hands, things we love, that give spring it's reputation for offering us new ideas, new hopes, and new beginnings. On Saturday, before winter made a last ditch attempt to seize the day, I felt that joy with dirty hands, a fairy village, and plants that, I swear, are happier for the time I spent with them. Love comes in all shapes and colors, even green.

And so it is.

Welcome Spring ... Finally!

The people responsible for creating the Gregorian calendar that we follow obviously never experienced the seasons in upstate New York. It may say that the first day of spring is March 20 on paper, but up here we are as likely to have several inches of snow on the ground as we are to have the first snowdrops popping up in our gardens. This year we were blessed to have a cool but sunny day to welcome spring and I could not resist throwing open my windows to usher in the new season inside as well as outside.

Still, I have been blessed to be able to see small hints that spring is finally upon us. The “angry birds,” as I call them, are once again building a nest in the hollowed out piece of siding on the house next door. Day after day I watch the mother bird haul in nesting material, sometimes pieces of long grasses or corn silks so big she has to drag them inch by inch through the opening. My squirrel family has been more active as well. During the winter they only go out in search of food and return to the warmth of their home under the porch roof as soon as possible. Lately, however, I’ve seen them playing tag in the huge pine tree and across the fences out back. My daughter and I have been putting out scraps of fruit, veggies, nuts and seeds all winter, and now when they see us coming, they sit and wait patiently instead of running away. It warms my heart to think that they trust us now. Of course, the biggest sign was the one that woke me up the other morning as a huge flock of geese came squawking and flapping across the sky overhead announcing to all that they were, indeed, home again. 

As cold as it’s been up here (wind chills in the single digits only a week ago), there have been tiny green shoots poking up through the front gardens of the neighboring houses and in the area surrounding my church, the daffodils have begun to show themselves. I know that we are still far from safe where the weather is concerned, having lived through many April snowstorms in the 30 years I’ve lived up here, but I hold out hope that, perhaps this year, we may get lucky. Yesterday I actually saw an insect flying around outside my window, the first one I’ve seen since autumn. If that’s not a sign that spring is really here, I don’t know what is. I call it a sign of hope carried in on tiny wings. Spring has come again!

And so it is.

Of Nests, and Nuts, and Other Things

It feels like forever since I've been back here, sitting at my desk, watching my furry and feathered neighbors go about their lives and writing about it. I had a total knee replacement done a few weeks ago which has been a lot harder than I thought it would be. This morning as I sat sipping my coffee in the only comfortable armchair in the living room, I heard a slight tapping on the window and some tweeting. From the corner of the window, peeking out from behind the open curtain, sat a little finch on the outside ledge looking in and tapping away. He was only there for a moment, flying off as soon as I struggled to my feet, but it was enough to get me out of my chair, and out of my pity-party, and over to my desk chair to take up my observations once again. The armchair may soothe my body, but my window on the world soothes my soul.

The birds that live in the cracks and crevices of the house next door have started repairing their nest. In and out they go, hauling strands of dried corn silk, long grasses and other items bigger than they are through the hole in the siding. This will be their third year there and I can't wait until that spring morning when I see tiny beaks poking out, calling for their breakfast. 

My daughter has been taking care of my squirrel friends while I have been laid up and unable to haul food out to them. We have had some crazy weather, spring one day and winter the next, but I did notice that they are moving around more, scampering up and down the pine tree and even playing tag from time to time. We have continued to put out nuts and seeds for them as well as for the birds. Recently I saw two of my neighbors also putting out nuts and scraps. Maybe I've started a trend. It warms my heart to know that others feel for our animal relations as well.

Sometimes even in the darkest moments of life, it's the little things that help to pull us out of our misery and into the light of a new day. That little tap, tap, tap, on my window this morning helped me to rise and move on, redirecting my attention on the positive. If birds are nest building, can spring be far behind? If squirrels are playing tag again, and the first tiny shoots of the daffodils are pushing up through the ground, can baby birds and buds on trees be on their way? Those are the things I will look for now. Those are the things that will get me up and out of my comfort zone and over to my window on the world until I can be out there with my little neighbors, spreading nuts, seeds, and love.

And so it is. 

In Defense of Punxsutawney Phil

I feel compelled to lift my voice in defense of that poor, misunderstood groundhog, old Punxsutawney Phil. He gets all the blame for predicting six more weeks of winter which doesn't sit well with most of us here in the northern hemisphere, and especially if you live in the northeast where April snowstorms are not unusual ... and that's exactly my point.

 It's true that we can learn a great deal from watching our animal and insect friends in nature as the Native Americans did for centuries before we showed up here, and still do. The wooly caterpillar is supposed to be able to tell us how harsh a winter we're going to have. The geese, and other birds, flying south indicate the end of autumn and the beginning of colder weather ... although you couldn't tell it by the flock of geese who live on a nearby farm, complete with shelter, food, and all the comforts of home. They fly over every morning, weather permitting, and fly back at supper time.  No fools are they. Why exhaust yourself flying thousands of miles when you have it good right here? 

Anyway, of all the animals on the planet that people use to gauge the seasons, poor Phil gets the worst of it. When February 2 rolls around, he has to bear the burden of bringing the bad news that we'll have six more weeks of winter. I'm here to tell you why that's not fair.

Phil is not a meteorologist! He's a large rodent! Honestly, he has no more power to predict the seasons than my squirrel neighbors. He has to hunker down and wait it out just like the rest of us. I'm sure he'd rather stay nice and warm in his den than be manhandled every year and dragged out to take the blame for what is the normal passing of the seasons in this part of the world. I know I would. We humans are always looking for a scapegoat or, in this case, scape-ground hog, to blame someone for things out of our control. Seriously, we should be more like the bears. They have enough sense to stock up and sleep it out until spring. 

So my advice to you all is this: Get over yourselves! Take life as it comes, enjoy each day, and be glad you are alive. Leave Phil and his mates to live their own lives in peace. How'd you like to be dragged out of your home in winter at the crack of dawn? Case closed.

And so it is. 

P.S. Phil wanted you to know that he would like one of those nifty top hats for himself. 

Faith In A Seed

"Thought I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders."

Henry David Thoreau

When I had a large, outdoor garden, this time of year was like Mother Nature's Christmas. Every day new seed catalogs would appear in my mailbox and, after pouring over their pages, padded envelopes containing packets of seeds would appear not too long afterwards. I researched what would tolerate our upstate New York 5B growing zone, then order what I reasonably expected to grow as well as a few experimental or ornamental items. I am proud to say that I had a very successful few years growing vegetables, herbs, and some flowers, but others, like roses, continued to elude me. Then, of course, there was the endless battle with the critters who tunneled underground and appeared just in time to raid my sunflowers. I learned to accept that all God's creatures deserved to live and eat as much as I did, and that sharing my garden with them was a gift, not a problem to be eradicated. 

When I moved into more urban apartment living and took up container gardening, the types of catalogs that appeared in my mailbox changed, but not the enthusiasm. During the years I lived in an apartment with a large, screened-in porch, I was able to grow lettuce, tomatoes, herbs, and an assortment of flowers. When I downsized even more to where I am now, I had to give up the lettuce and tomatoes for the present, but my herbs and certain flowers are doing well. My bamboo plant has turned into a 5 foot tree, I have a big bag of basil and one of mint in my freezer for cooking, and my begonias continue to bloom under a grow light. Hmm, maybe this year I'll give those hanging cherry tomatoes and windowsill pots of lettuce a try!

The same way that I have faith in a seed, I have faith in the seeds of our intentions as we start off 2023. I believe if we plant a seed to grow a new habit, pursue a new interest, or follow our dreams, and if we give it plenty of attention, focus, and love, I will "expect wonders." Just like trying out a new seed, however, it takes patience and practice before we produce positive results. "Rome wasn't built in a day," as the saying goes. Neither does a planter full of tomatoes, a 5 foot bamboo plant, or a dream. Day by day, step by step, we water, we weed, we feed, and we pray. It it's meant to grow where it's planted, it will.

So, what seeds are you planting this year?

And so it is. 

Winter From My Window

"I pray this winter be gentle and kind - a season of rest from the wheel of the mind."

John Geddes

The picture and the quote above says it all. With the exception of a particularly nasty storm in the days right before Christmas, winter in my neck of the woods has been pretty quiet. Only a little over 3 hours from here, in Buffalo, New York,  they've had enough snow on numerous occasions to fill a football stadium. Did I mention how grateful I am right now?

My window on the world in winter is quite a departure from the other seasons of the year. Yet, I am blessed to be living here, where the distant hills are still green with evergreens and pine trees, and the ones near my building are just as green. I am never bereft of color even in the depth of winter.

My main concerns this year have been for the critters, especially my little squirrel neighbors next door. When the big, bad storm of Christmas 2022 hit, the worst of it was the wind and the extreme cold. Gusts of over 50 mph were recorded and the wind chill went down to -21 degrees. I had packed a bag and moved in with my daughter's family so we could all be together in case the power went out and she couldn't get to me or I to her. All the time I was safe and sound, my thoughts kept going to my little neighbors and all the other birds, chipmunks, and animals who had to tough it out as best they could. When I returned on the afternoon of Christmas Day, it was a whole 3 days later before I caught sight of Mama Squirrel and her offspring. I didn't see Dad but the chances were good that if Mom and son made it in their little home under the roof across the way, Dad probably did, too. I was so happy you'd have thought that they were actual relatives which, in a manner of speaking, and according to what I learned from my Native American teachers, they are. The native phrase "all my relations," refers to just that ... all living things are my relatives. I celebrated by throwing them a belated Christmas feast complete with peanuts, seeds, chopped apples and fresh greens. I began leaving nuts and seeds out as soon as it turned colder in December so they could store up for the winter and had been counting on that to see them through the storm. That they survived was reason enough to celebrate and help them re-stock their larder.

The days of January have swung back and forth from cold to warm, from winter to fall, and even a day or two of early spring thrown in. All around us the weather has been terrible but in our little valley we have been lucky. It's not that I don't love to see the snowflakes falling down, making everything look pretty, which I have written about before, but that seemed more appropriate for Christmas. Now, in depth of winter, my concerns for "all my relations" as well as the well-being of my human family is my focus. In my own case, I'm hoping that our annual February whopper of a storm holds off until after the 16th as I am scheduled for knee surgery and wish to be back home before it hits. Then I can sit and look out of my window on the world and let Mother Nature do her thing. It is, after all, winter. 

Stay safe, stay warm, stay well, and don't forget about all "your" relations.

And so it is ... until next time. 

Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

Finally! After two years of mild Decembers and a white Christmas only existing in our memories and holiday songs, it looks like we're actually going to have a white Christmas this year! It's been snowing since yesterday and is not supposed to stop until late today. The temperatures for the next week will be staying in the 30's, so it looks like it will be staying around for a while, if only on the lawns and rooftops. That's okay with me. I've been dreaming of a white Christmas.

What is it about a white Christmas that speaks to our souls? Is it just the stories we grew up with about Santa Claus living up at the North Pole with all that snow? Is it the holiday music? Or maybe it's just childhood memories when a white Christmas was the norm, rather than the exception (and they say there's no climate change)? I can only speak for myself. Seeing snow on the ground reflecting the Christmas lights and decorations brings a warm glow inside my heart. Cars are driving by with Christmas trees strapped to the roof, snow clinging to the branches. People don't seem to mind the snow. They are singing along with the holiday music on the car radio and laughing. A month from now when it snows, they won't be singing, won't be happy, won't be enjoying the cold and the wet. Maybe we should just appreciate what the magic of holiday snow can do while we have it ... and maybe pray for a little more?

And so it is.