NOW THAT WE’RE WITHOUT DAYLIGHT SAVINGS, and “with” the first snow, it seems the moment to ask: What do you want to do together this winter? Shall we all just hibernate silently in our individual (garden) beds, like the woolly bear caterpillar above in the discarded nest, or keep the conversation going and pretend it’s not happening? I asked the same question a year ago today, and you all said “onward.” So shall we compare calendars?
As I said in my November 8, 2010 post, the A Way to Garden philosophy (developed through a very unscientific 25-plus years of digging holes) is that the garden is a 365-day companion, and that the season never ends.
You can hear me talk about that notion in today’s podcast with my friends at Robin Hood Radio, by the way. Or in the “woo-woo video,” as I call it, that I made this past spring. It’s right here (though you have probably seen it):
WITH THAT ‘WE NEVER CLOSE’ attitude, I will continue posting and also sending newsletters* in the hopes that all gardeners have plants on their minds no matter what the weather delivers—and speaking of weather, did I mention it snowed for the first time today? Egads.
(*What? You don’t get my free newsletter? Register to receive it by clicking here.)
So what else is on my winter schedule so far, besides salting, sanding, shoveling—and a stack of books and Netflix?
This will be a unique winter for me, or at least distinct from any other in more than a dozen years, in that I will have a book coming out, “And I Shall Have Some Peace There,” about walking away from my “successful” career and city life to finally live here in the garden, connect to nature, and write again. There will be lots of to-do’s related to that, including lectures and bookstore events (the first of which are listed here; more being scheduled).
I’m also starting on another book—though the subject is a bit of a temporary secret, because I don’t like to try to explain things “out loud” until I am well immersed in them and can state them clearly. Soon, I promise. But since I’ve signed up to write “The Book After the Upcoming Book” (as we shall temporarily refer to it) I’ll be in the best seat in the house, staring out at the bird feeder over my right shoulder and at the Buddha by the frogpond ahead of me, with an increasingly less demonic Jack by my (cold?) feet.
AS I TUCK THE LAST of the vulnerable things into the cellar and otherwise get ready for all those tasks, there’s this all-important to-do that’s really first and foremost: I want to take a moment to thank each of you for being the clever, kind and considerate catalysts and companions that you are.
Without your comments (almost 15,000 so far!) I would not have kept posting stories (nearly 700 of them) and photos (approaching 2,000, though my Nikon crapped out a week ago and is in the hospital, drat).
You urge me onward, and for that, I thank you more than you can know.
Now go mulch something, won’t you? Winter’s just ahead, and I don’t want to be held responsible for any unnecessarily frosted bits, now do I? :)