As much as I’ve been enjoying the winter (and I really have) it seems that I’ve reached a critical point of green deficiency, the kind that finds me at my favorite greenhouse, not grocery store, seeking remedy. With more than a little sense of deja vu, I visited that greenhouse this past weekend, feeling sure that the last time I had been there was about the same time last year. Looking back through financial statements, I see that, sure enough, I’ve made this same visit in early February for the last couple of years. It is an annual pilgrimage, I realized, one that has eased its way into my winter rhythm.
It’s interesting to realize that the yearning for all things green and alive has a healthy, regular place in the cycle of winter. The doldrums of late winter can be so menacing when remembered from afar, but I take comfort in knowing that there is a new patch of greenery ready to soothe the longing of February. It is also helpful to note that this yearning coincides nicely with the call to start seeds for the garden. I shall be embracing the opportunity to plunge my hands again into the balm of earth in the next week or two.
Early Spring promises to be a riot of color indoors, if all goes well. The paper sack full of discounted flower bulbs I bought with ill-fated intentions at the end of Fall have spent ample dormancy, I think, in the frigid cold of my studio. I rescued them, while the potting soil was handy, and plugged them into large pots in our sunniest window.
And we’ve the beginning of a Fairy Garden here, tucked away in a vintage lunch pail. It’s Isadora’s project, bearing a wide scope of intentions to make the accessories that fairies require. So far it has been knocked over no less than three times, so we are at the moment focusing only on keeping the plants alive and intact.
I feel a bit like a fairy, myself, with all the new lushness of my surroundings. What a lovely winter intermission.