In February, my mind turns to the garden and Spring. There is a shift that happens, a changing of the light, and my brain responds to the cue: get out the garden books, order your seeds, make (possibly extravagant) plans. And even when brief spring-like moments are replaced with very wintry storms I still know that Spring is on its way.
I’ve been plotting the veggie garden rotation, and making a calendar of when and how to start seeds. The rotation thing always seems a bit complicated to me. It shouldn’t be, and in the books it looks easy – just move each crop from bed to bed – but in reality, or in *our* reality, it stumps me a bit. Probably because I always want to grow more of a certain kind of vegetable and so you can’t just do an even rotation. It’s more complicated. Fortunately, of course, the main thing is to keep things moving, and whether or not it all follows the strict recommendations is probably not the end of the world. Also, I’m making it sounds as if we are perfectionist gardeners or something, when really, if we manage to get things in and maybe even do a bit of weeding this year, it will be an accomplishment.
On a stormy day I sometimes cover the coffee table with brown paper and set Little R up with crayons and pencils. I like the large-scale aspect, and of course the location near the stove. Inevitably I end up there too, maybe trying to get something productive done or maybe just drawing by the fire. Yesterday I was trying to plot the vegetable garden and took the opportunity to sketch out a plan on the table. I filled in the beds with crayons drawings of the veg as Little R hovered over me. No sooner was the garden complete than all Little R’s farm animals moved in to snack. Cheeky critters! (But that reminds me, we’ve got to fence the chickens out of our plot this year.)