It’s time.
Our late frost-free date coincides with tax day, but I cannot wait until mid-April. Now it is time to start seeds in the greenhouse, to thank the earth for what she has given, to awaken the garden.
Usually, my seeds go in by Valentine’s Day. Just keep in mind that in 2009-2010, the Mid-Atlantic actually had a seasonably cold winter. It was not freakish; this range of temperatures has been our historical average, though El Niño meant that we got more moisture and thus more snow.
It was a blessing, since we did not get the up-and-down bounces that shock our beehives into activity too early, so the foragers leave and burn energy when nothing is in bloom, and the queen begins to lay eggs to make young mouths that cannot be fed.
So yes, I’m thankful for the winter. I’m more thankful for spring, the way our ancestors must have felt–and the bees still feel–when the cold relaxed and the time of want was behind them.
Working with wonders the ancients could not have imagined, I use a combination of spiritual and technological methods to get the garden ready for the harvest. First, I mulch any fallen leaves that I did not grind up in autumn, and then I turn them back into the flower beds carefully, so I don’t break the stalks of the daffodils that are coming up now.
Then I walk the bounds of the garden with my staff, tapping each tree and saying words such as “awaken and join the dance of the summer!” or “Old oak, we need your shade come July! Join us here and awaken.”
There are many words one could use, but I’ve heard this salutation of the trees called “vital” by some who walk an earth-centered path. I rather like it.
My other jobs involve fixing tools, changing oil, sharpening blades, and doing wood-work with fences, edging, and twigs. I mend whatever supports and untreated fencing I can, and the rest goes to kindling or woodchips. A new heavy-duy chipper meant for our farm (but living in town for a few weeks) lets me chip what I want to compost for mulch next year (note: new wood chips steal nitrogen until they cure). With my pole-saw I cut and craft wattling from shoots of Crape Myrtle, to slow down the four-footed theives.
It’s not, however, time to turn the soil; the sudden warmth tempts us, but digging when the soil is too wet makes a clay pot that will bind roots and stunt a plant. Planting when it is too early may blast a seedling. So for now, keep the plants in the greenhouse!
When I am done with these simple chores, from the center of the garden, near our sundial, I give thanks to each element and tap my staff to salute the garden again.
My your growing season be plentiful with harvest and with joy. See you at Herbs Galore in Maymont, in late April, when it will be time to dig and plant in profusion.
