Allow me to pause from decorating, painting and wandering these halls, still stunned that this is our home…
I have an announcement to make… It’s Winter in Door County
The snow is receding. For now, that is.
For someone who hates winter, I’m… adjusting. No really, it’s O.K. One WOULD wonder why I moved to Northern Wisconsin (read: Siberia). It’s all good. Winter here is actually gorgeous. It’s profoundly quiet and peaceful. You can hear the silence. The night sky is clear and full of twinkling stars. The bays and the lake are pristine flat tundras of ice and even the roads are tidy. There is no black sludge snow along the intersections and edges of the roads. Instead, the evergreens are capped in white and the sky is a clear, true shade of blue. Yes, the sky is blue. There are grey days here and there to be sure but the sun seems to shine much more here during the winter than in Chicagoland. I’m sure there is the element of everything being so new and exciting but darn it, I swear winter is better here.
When I inquire with the “locals” on when I can begin planting I get the same response every time.
First, they apply nervous laughter and then a stuttering, “JJJJJJune.”
Followed up by an ominous, “If you’re lucky.”
and for a fleeting second, I have a serious “What have I done?” moment. Turns out spring, even summer can only begin once the ice finally melts on Green Bay. Rumour has it, it’s twelve feet thick right now. Eek! Perhaps I should have moved south. But no… My grandparents sold their Indiana farm (a part of me died that day) and so, there is NO place else in America I would rather live than Door County.
The empty quiet is a balm to my energetic, constant mind. And these days I need that soothing peace because my brain is in complete overdrive with thoughts of this nebulous garden. I’m daunted, overwhelmed and completely in love with the idea of turning the front acre of the house into something that could raise Monet from the dead.
But there is so much work to be done.
There are tons of trees to cut down, if not hundreds, there’s a bobcat to rent and earth to move, there are raised beds to build, soil to be delivered, rock walls to assemble and pea gravel to spread. There are just two of us, an essential oil business to run and children to school. How will we EVER do it?
Even if we break the project down into a series of phases over the next couple of years I still have no idea how I’ll even get to the point where I feel like a real gardener again. As has been the last decade of my life, the next decade will be a complete act of faith with works. Heavy on the works mind you.
But I WILL garden again.
My aprons pockets will swell with seeds, my gloves will tear at the fingertips from weeding with passion and my ankles will be stained with dirt circles. My tabletops will boast homegrown arrangements and my larder will be full of neatly lined glass jars and crates of squashes; hanging onion braids to be pushed out of the way so I can gather what I need for dinner. This is just the cold calm before the garden.
And I’m enjoying every minute of it.
PS. Here’s an image for your Pinterest board if that’s your thing AND be sure to hop on over here and check out my new Podcast. FREE for listening thru the end of March!