Today the weather man is predicting four to eight inches of snow. The only way to survive such a dreary forecast is to stock up on hot chocolate and pull out the garden catalogs. In the long, slow slog toward spring, one of the things that keeps me sane is flipping through seed and plant catalogs, fantasizing about new border combinations and exotic foodstuffs.
So I start to think about seeds. Our new seeds arrived at the store, and I spent several hours organizing and setting them out. With that firsthand look, I started my seed list. Then I came home, went through all the seeds I have left from last year, and managed to knock that list down quite a lot.
I ALWAYS buy more seeds than I can actually use. I seem to be space-planting challenged.
But in a weird twist of fate, my darling BF lives on a farm, in the actual country. He is in no way space-challenged. So this year we are planning a garden together. Just think of it! All that space! This year, it's corn, and pumpkins, and melons trailing over the ground! Massive field crops that have no place in my tiny, tidy city potager! I cannot wait!
He even can get me truckloads of aged horse manure. Horse manure! It's these things that make the fraudulent farmgirl's heart go pitter-pat.
In the meantime, I contemplate with anticipation the occasional thaw we are bound to get in February. On those rare warmer days, I'll pull out my trusty Felco #6 pruners and shape up my shrubs. And then retire to my kitchen rocking chair to contemplate just how many kinds of tomatoes I can realistically squeeze in.