Last month brought us snow upon snow upon snow.
Gardeners should welcome a thick blanket of snow because it’s the best possible protection for sleeping perennial beds. Snow insulates the ground from temperature fluctuations that cause thaw/freeze cycles, which harm underground roots and cause plants to heave out of the ground.
Although I have mixed feelings about snow, I find the notion of a snowy blanket comforting this time of year. There’s little to do for our gardens besides dream about the season ahead, preferably under a cozy comforter.
I suspect that winter gardening fantasies are especially potent for gardeners this year. I checked in with some of my gardening friends to see what they dream about as the snow drifts swell. My sister was so excited about ordering flower seeds from the John Scheepers catalog that she texted me a picture of her order sheet. This season’s roster includes Cherry Brandy black-eyed Susan, Magic Roundabout sunflower, Velouette cosmos blend and Oklahoma zinnia mixture. She is a gifted short-story writer, and I think she chooses her seeds partly for their names.
One New Year’s resolution I always make, with mixed success, is not to repeat past failures. As Einstein famously never said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
Sometimes it’s stubborness that makes me double down, but often it’s just forgetfulness. My friend Jennie, who plants an ambitious vegetable garden every year with her husband, told me she’s about ready to give up on sweet potatoes after years of battling voles. “It is so unnerving when you bring up a forkful of dirt and 6 voles run out and there are no sweet potatoes,” she wrote.
One thing Jennie told me she’s excited about this year is planting lots of extra okra. “It’s so beautiful with its hibiscus-looking blossoms,” she wrote. “I never could get enough at once last year to really suit me, hence planning to grow twice as much.”
I marvel at the notion of someone craving more okra. I was put off okra many years ago when my then-boyfriend grew it in abundance and served it sliced raw in salads. Its slimy texture was gag-inducing. I look forward to touring Jennie’s garden next summer and seeing the blossoms for myself. Maybe I’ll be persuaded to give okra another try.
Vegetable gardeners often experiment with companion plantings, sometimes with good results, sometimes not. Jennie also said she’s “daydreaming about the beets,” which she plants inside a protective “fence” of onions and garlic, a strategy that she says has worked very well and will happily repeat. No insanity there.
My friend Ann, whose flowerbeds would make Martha Stewart drool with envy, told me that she had so much time on her hands last summer that she really outdid herself in the garden.
“My house was worthy of photos,” she wrote in a recent e-mail. “I nurtured several brugmancia plants through the winter and when strategically planted outside, I had towering trees of yellow trumpets.”
She even went so far as to recover her porch cushions in a bright orange fabric and “continued that color scheme through the yard with orange profusion zinnias, and a variety of yellow, low and spreading annuals.” She strategically planted her dahlia and calla lily bulbs into pots at different times, so she “could move them to the front steps when the blooms were the showiest.”
Looking ahead to this summer, though, Ann ponders her busy life, which includes grandchildren and helping out at her daughter’s blueberry farm. She is determined not to overdo the gardening this year.
“I don’t really want to repeat this. How can I simplify and have the same satisfaction?” she wrote. “All of this gardening was Plan B. I know my addictions and I know myself. Maybe this year of living small can translate into gardening small.”
My gardening friend Jane does not do small. Last fall, to celebrate her husband Chris’ 70th birthday, she planted 70 tulip bulbs. “It is going to be such fun to see who appears this spring to join the resident bulbs,” she wrote.
Gardeners are always hopeful, ready to see what surprises spring will bring. Jane and Chris lost a beloved Hally Jolivette cherry tree last summer in the drought. “Just up and wilted and gave up,” is how she put it. They cut it down but left the stump, which promptly produced some shoots at the base. She’s eager to see if they amount to a young tree. “I hope so,” she wrote. “It is the most perfect early spring flowering tree.”
I was surprised on the first Saturday in February to see a robin on the birdbath and several more in the trees. A sure harbinger of spring, no matter how much more snow we’ll see in the weeks ahead. In the meantime, sweet dreams.
Mickey Rathbun, an Amherst-based lawyer turned journalist, has written the “Get Growing” column since 2016.