Garden Post: 2/7

There is a blizzard warning one county away. The roads are slippery, there's a windchill warning, and the local schools are closing early. 

Here inside the house, warm inside my mountain of fluffy throw blankets and wool bedsocks I can sit with my hands warming on my cuppa and look out the window and just enjoy the silence that a good snowfall always brings. 

We live between three highways. Even in the middle of the night, there is road noise. But when it snows, everything falls silent. The traffic noises fall away, the birds are quiet, and there is nothing but the quiet rustle of fresh snow falling on our skylights. This is the kind of quiet that you FEEL as you sit, watching the snow fall, with nothing interrupting you but the occasional whoosh of a stray breeze playing amongst the trees. 

One week into February, we have already started our seedlings for this year's garden. This is our 13th year of intensive square-foot gardening, and we are excited to be starting herbs from seed for the first time. Our worm colony wintered in a worm-bin in the dining room, and we used the rich soil from their beds as our starting soil. In the window, we have started: cherry tomatoes, sweet peppers, savory, rosemary, basil, lemonbalm, dill, and strawberries. 

And so, our season of waiting and anticipation begins. From a row of paper cups, will come months of fresh herbs, and enough produce to cut our summer & autumn grocery bill by 25%. On our 128 sqare-foot deck, will be an oasis of organic goodness. 

This year's garden will be rearranged to make room for squirrel-proof cloches to protect the strawberries. We are also growing dill and marshmallow for the first time. We have scaled back on the type of plants we are growing, in order to grow more of what we love. Since squash and corn is constantly ravaged by the squirrels, we will have more tomatoes and three types of salad greens instead. 

The months of watering, weeding, and chasing squirrels are before us. For now however, it is a time for quiet waiting. 

For now, the garden sleeps.