LEANING TOWARDS SPRING

And so, just like that, January is behind us. 

I know that we’re not supposed to wish our lives away but my seed catalogue and I have been waiting for this day.  February has finally arrived and I’ve only allowed myself one quick flip through all those pictures of growing things since The Book of Hope arrived.  It is a very important rule - too much looking leads to premature ordering. If a person gets started too early the house looks like a jungle by March.  Except for how the colour green soothes my soul in the dead of winter, starting plants right after Christmas is counter-productive.  This is Saskatchewan; seedlings can’t survive outside until May.  By then babies planted in January are so spindly they have keeled over and died. 

I have learned this the hard way.

Multiple times.

Eventually I learned it’s important to pace myself. I have a set, strict timeline for garden-related activities.  I am not allowed to even consider buying seeds until February.  And choosing what I want to order needs to take a full week.  And the order form should not be sent electronically, snail mail is more dignified.  And don’t ask for express delivery.  And there’s no need to bring the starter soil in from the garden shed to thaw out until after the seeds arrive.

If all goes according to plan this brings me to the beginning of March, and that’s just about right for actually planting seeds here in the frozen north.

Meanwhile, I cope with the cold and dark of winter above the 49^th parallel by using other tools at my disposal.  I have 4,802 pictures on my phone.  Unsurprisingly, 3/4s of them are of my grandchildren.  And 3/4s of those pictures are taken in my gardens, showing off my two favourite things in the same frame.  Weird, I know, but that’s just how it works out. 

I also have photos of my favourite combinations of plants for my deck pots.  And pictures of the pristine beauty of a freshly weeded vegetable garden.  And servings of fresh asparagus smothered in butter.  These are the things that keep me going at this time of the year.

But, today is the big day!  At last I can sit down with a cup of coffee and spend some quality time with my 2023 seed catalogue.  I can ponder if I am going for a particular colour scheme for the year, and if so, which one?  I can decide just how vegetable crazy I want to go for the year.  Do I want to try something new, or go with the tried and true?  We are re-starting our strawberry patch this year – which variety should I try?  Oh, looky there! There is a variety pack!  Well that’s settled, then!

And do I want sunflowers for their height, or their colour?  Oh, why does it have to be one or the other … I’ll get both!

And should I do sweet peas or morning glories on the trellis this year? Or am I brave enough to invest in a climbing rose for that corner?  I wonder how the honeysuckle is weathering the winter?  The hummingbirds sure loved it last year.

And on page 45 there is something called Ptilotus that would look great as the thriller in my larger planters … at $8.25 for 10 seeds do I dare see if I can grow them? And something called Penstemon on page 52 that apparently hummingbirds love.  They are only $5.70 for 20 seeds.  What I don’t do for my hummingbirds.

I may have circled a few things on my quick flip through in January, but I see that the crazy farmer wants to grow giant pumpkins again this year and seems very interested in a mushroom farm as well.  Such is the power of Spring Fever that none of this seems like a bad idea at the moment.  Weeding in the hot July sun is the perfect cure for it but I’ve noticed that immunity doesn’t last long enough to be of any help.  Here I am in February going overboard yet again.

So I will make up my order and I will plant my seeds, and then transplant the seedlings as they grow.  It will keep me busy while the days lengthen out and the sun gets stronger.  And then, whether everything grows for me or not, I will be off to all the greenhouses within driving distance to bask in their warmth and scent, and spending an undisclosed amount of money on all the things that make my heart happy.

I know we’re not supposed to wish our time away, but I can’t wait.

 

IT’S JUST SAD

It’s that time of the year again.  The holiday rush is over, the company has all gone home, the tree is down and the decorations have been put away.  I think I’ve even found 87% of the nerf bullets that seem to be everywhere after the grandchildren have been visiting.  Thanks to a very generous uncle they have enough ammunition to keep the nerf war raging until they all graduate college.

But, as everyone seems to make the switch back into regular life at the beginning of January I have trouble shifting gears.  I’ve always had trouble with back shifting – just ask our old Ford grain truck.

That’s a whole other story, though.

I call this time of the year the Doldrums.  To sailors ‘the Doldrums’ is when there are no winds to power a sailboat leaving it to drift listlessly, going nowhere.  To me it’s the low sunlight days of January and February where I drift listlessly from room to room wondering what to make for supper.  Same thing, really.

Science calls it something else; Seasonal Affective Disorder. 

SAD for short, which is very fitting because that’s how it feels – just sad. 

Lacking joy.  Or energy.  Or inspiration. 

Day, after day, after day. 

And still having to come up with a supper menu,

 every. single. night. 

So tedious.

The doctors at the Mayo Clinic agree that it’s most likely caused by the lack of sunlight.  This lack of light messes with our Circadian rhythm disrupting our sleep patterns and drops our Serotonin and Melatonin levels which triggers moodiness and depression …  and stagnation in the food preparation department.  (Okay, I added that part myself, but it fits the model they present.) 

They also say that people who live close to the equator don’t get SAD – I’m thinking that’s self explanatory.

Although they warn that SAD can develop into serious depression, most sufferers can wait it out until we can plant seeds and watch things grow.  This coming-back-to-life phenomenon has pulled me back from the brink year after year.  My husband built me a greenhouse to give tribute to the Sun god in gratitude.

After all these winters I have learned a list of things I can do to try to shake off the funk.  Get outside and soak up what sun there is.  Take on a project and finish it – the sense of accomplishment is like a magic elixir.  Spend time with friends in laughter and conversation.  Focus on a long-term goal and spend time making plans to bring it to fruition.  (Anyone want to head out to a tropical destination?  You know, to test out that theory about being close to the equator?)

Or you could ask your phone what to make for supper … and then tell Siri to make it herself.

Today is a sunnier day than we’ve been having lately so I took this self advice and the dog and I went for a short walk.  He was insanely happy to see me outside, so that’s a start.  I also completed a project – if you can call changing the kitty litter something so grand.  Fore sure I feel better now that it’s done!  I imagine the cat does too.

I came back inside filled with new purpose and put a roast beef in the oven for supper. 

One more day down, approximately 60 more to go.