January ’26: Feeling wistful

I write this blog mostly for a dear friend who is no longer here to read it, but who is always on my mind where the garden is concerned. Twenty-odd years older than me, several inches taller, with a rich Southern drawl and huge personality, she was my garden mentor, confidante and cheerleader back when we were both living in CA — me being brand new to gardening, her having done it for a lifetime. She gave me cuttings and advice, taught me about concepts like “borrowing a view,” accompanied me on excursions to nurseries all around Northern California, hunting for strange and obscure plants. (As was my wont in those days.) Nothing makes me miss her as much as gardening without being able to tell her what I’m up to or to hear what she thinks about it. She had no filter, and I loved her for it. 

Today is her birthday and my “garden” is under about two feet of snow, so I don’t mind telling you I’m feeling a bit wistful — on top of so much sorrow about the world we’re living in. But underneath all that snow, the plants are busy doing what they need to, preparing for the coming spring. Maybe there’s a metaphor in there for our democracy.

My January almanac is simply this: After such a dry Fall, we’ve had snow on the ground almost continuously since December 2nd, to the point that I haven’t been able to even have anyone come bid on the asphalt removal and replacement. They literally wouldn’t be able to see what I’m talking about. But I’m training my patience (as gardeners do), still learning the local plants and dreaming about the space, and counting on the fact that Spring will come. 

Spring will come.