Another week, another blast of winter. We had another quick ice storm. The house faces north, and the birdbath in the front yard, shaded by the building, is still a solid block of ice. Most of the rest has melted, leaving behind a wealth of dead things in the garden. I think my newly-planted onions are gone, as well as most of the parsley, cilantro, chives, and one of my big lavenders. Tomorrow is supposed to be in the 60s and sunny, so I suppose I’ll go out and start clearing away.
On this side of the window, I’m just about busting out with growing things. All my spring veggies are sprouting inside, waiting for their appointed dates for planting. My calendar is a sea of red reminders. Tomorrow says PLANT POTATOES TODAY! I’m ready, with three kinds of seed potatoes, baskets, and oh, I have to go pick up some compost and mulch this afternoon.
Mostly, I’m waiting, with my nose pressed up to the glass, hoping that this ice storm was the last one, and that I can replant all the dead stuff now without another three day freeze penalty.
While I’ve been stuck inside, I’ve been doing a little gluebooking. I’m just about to the point where I’m done ordering seeds, so all the seed catalogs are gradually getting tossed on the gluebook pile. I have a little basket of magazines and catalogs tucked into my living room coffee table that I use for gluebooks—and three books going at the moment. I’m pretty sure at least one book is going to get some garden pages this week.
I forget sometimes how much I like gluebooks. No stress, no techniques, just cut, assemble and glue. I started doing them at a time my life was very complicated, and I tend to return to them whenever things around me start getting too crazy. They’re like old friends who will put up with my whining and complaining.
I realized this week that for the first time in a long time, I’m not swapping or participating in any collaborative projects. I popped my last swap into the mail early in the week, and haven’t gone looking for anything new. I think I need a break from playing with others. I’m itchy to start working on a garden journal—just as itchy as I am to get working on the garden itself.