It’s January in Minnesota. Of course, it’s January everywhere, but in Minnesota, for the gardener at least, January can be a black hole from which it seems nothing green will ever grow. Exaggeration? Maybe. But the ground froze in my garden six weeks ago and probably won’t thaw for another three months, at least (and then it probably won’t be ready to work until it dries sufficiently another two weeks to a month after that). There’s a couple of feet of snow on the ground and more to come over the next couple of days/months. The temperatures aren’t below zero today, but they were yesterday and will be again. So what’s a gardener to do when faced with half a year of no digging, no planting, no weeding, and no walking among the green things?
Well, there’s indoor gardening to do, of course. Houseplants continue to need care, after all, but it’s too early (here) to start seeds for transplanting. There’s tool care, and winter garden decorating, and the monitoring of ice and snow on trees and shrubs, as well. But these are mundane chores. There is a task for January that’s so much better: The depths of winter, when there isn’t even the promise of spring in the air, is the perfect time to dream.
There is no time for it in May when we are buried in seeds and divisions and dandelions, but now I have before me my Inspiration Folder. It contains page after page of the culled wealth of fifteen years of home and garden magazine subscriptions. (Magazines in my house get cut up and torn apart and the gems stored snugly in file-folders just waiting for their chance to be put to good use).
In January, I open the folder and just peruse, reminding myself of my desire for worn wooden benches and vine-covered pergolas, for trees and shrubs and cozy cottage garden beds filled to over-flowing with cheerful blooms. I gather books and seed catalogues, bookmark websites and blogs, and I let my imagination fly. I sketch plans and make lists and censor nothing. The time for reason and common sense comes later, when I look at my budget of both money and time and decide which of these fantastic dreams to implement this year.
So let the winds howl and the snow fly. I’ve got a glass of hot chocolate, my sketch pad and journal, and a cat sleeping on my feet. In January, I dream.
