Dreaming and scheming the winter away

Several days of snow has started me thinking about seasons.

Life, for instance, has any number of seasons depending on how one divides it — by age, love, career, health, and so forth. A year can have many seasons, such as work, school, vacation or the holidays. In nature, the year is divided into four seasons, at least in some parts of the world. In Alaska, the seasons run into two: a glorious sprummer (spring, summer and fall combo) interrupted by six months of winter.

In the garden, too, there are seasons. We sow, build, weed, water, maintain, harvest and store.

I began wondering about what season of the garden are we in now? Certainly it is too late for any actual garden work except, perhaps, to shovel snow onto plants under the eaves. Best to do that while the front walk is being shoveled. The snow must be dumped somewhere, so why not accomplish both jobs at once? And, practically, it is a bit too early to order seed and such for the coming spring.

I did that once in November and reordered in March not thinking that I had done something ahead. It was interesting to see how that list of must haves altered in those four months. It was all about dreamy décor in November, exciting new perennials, bird baths and English trugs. By March it was all about fresh food and color, the tried and the true — zucchini, salad greens and brilliant nasturtiums won the day. Possibly, that November list holds a clue to this season of the garden. I think it is a time for dreaming. With nothing really concrete to do, we can turn our minds in any direction we choose.

One thing I am prone to think about is a resolve to do better. You see, there is something I do ahead. I make my New Year’s resolutions in November.) I will clip the hedge twice, as it should be done. I will get the grass out of the flower beds and keep it out. I will stake the tomatoes before they topple and pick the apples while they are still on the trees. I will mend the fence instead of propping it up with poles in the spring. I might even start writing my column a few hours before the deadline. In some way, resolving to do better gives me peace about not having done so well this year.

Another thing to which I turn my mind is expansion. Despite the obvious that I cannot keep up with what I already have, I love to plan for more.

A screened gazebo would be perfect in the area of lawn bounded on one side by spruce trees on a second side by a fence (still standing), and on the remaining two sides by newly completed (all right, not quite completed) hedge. A larger orchard is necessary to increase my collection of apple trees. Of course, an orchard involves another fence to erect and, eventually, to prop up every spring. Maybe it is time to try raspberries, especially since my husband is no longer around to mow off the starts. Or I might try an apricot espaliered against the south facing wall.

Mind, these are not just idle dreams. I make them concrete by putting them on paper.

When we moved into this house 17 years ago, I laboriously measured distances between landmarks and diagrammed the entire property (fortunately, it is only 1 acre) onto a grid. Whenever I have a grand scheme I make a copy of my diagram and draw up my plan. I have, on paper, a boulevard of apple trees, a lake full of swans and an herb garden laid out like the Union Jack. This last design I even tried on the ground, but discovered after countless hours of constructing and planting it was located too far from the kitchen to be useful so it was left to re-vegetate. A careful search of my house would turn up two or three dozen garden plans, including all of the before-mentioned schemes, as well as borders, raised beds, shrubberies, fences, walls, pastures, patios, benches, dry stream-beds, woodland paths and God only knows what else.

It’s absolutely amazing what one can do with a single acre.

Truly, letting one’s dreams run free can transport one into summer (regardless of snow depth), transform any bit of duff land into a cultivated park and, best of all, it costs nothing but a little time.

Hally Truelove is a Master Gardener who lives and gardens in Wasilla Alaska with her two daughters, a handful of cats, a bunch of bunnies, some guinea pigs, a dog and a frog. Contact her at 376-0909.