Every mile is two in winter.
~ George Herbert, British poet
I took a few minutes today to look out the window. Actually, maybe a lot of minutes.
I wanted to do something, anything other than laundry and dinner. Sarah Blacksmith, cowgirl of the Old West, knew how to avoid housework ~ she lived outside.
Now that’s a formidable woman.
I just have to accept that it’s December and the garden work is over. I’ve hoed, dug, loosened, turned over, fertilized, limed, cut, transplanted, planted, divided, watered, and weeded. Everything is finished. It’s time to toss a log on the fire, and while the garden sleeps, dig into my pile of books. But I worry. Have I mulched the butterfly bush enough? Are the new peonies protected? Did I really mound the asparagus like I should have? What if the garlic doesn’t come up? Well, then I could plant…Oh, wait, I’ll look through a few seed catalogs. I love how they begin: Acaena, Acantholimon, Acanthus, Achillea. And in the catalog, the weather is balmy. I am so there ~ in Nature’s Paradise of Eternal Life.
The catalog illustrations remind me of the blank journals Mary gave us last January. I started to fill the pages of mine with sketches and photos.
Yesterday I caught a glimpse of this brave little guy.
I wonder what winter has in store for him. December 21 is the official start, the Full Cold Moon, time to make snacks….. for the critters. Make some for yours ~ roll pinecones in one part cornmeal and four parts peanut butter.
I wish I could cultivate the weather. It’s never quite right. But there are other things I can work at and pay attention to. Like writing. I keep my notebook handy and scribble in it. And when taking in a landscape, whether physical or emotional, I turn it sideways, like a sketchbook. Marion says it will deepen and broaden your view. So on the next blank page of my journal, I sketch my garden plot and imagine the first fragile snowdrops waving in the raw spring wind.
I brew a pot of tea, sit by the fire and fall into a poem by Gary Snyder.