In the middle of my post holiday snowed under hazardous weather outlook week, they’re arriving. The seed and garden catalogs in all their glory.
A virtual bouquet of promises. Springtime at my finger tips.
While in the middle of new snow, with a forecast for more and a warning of an arctic cold front on they way, I’m looking at lilies, fruit trees and hundreds of plants sure to die immediately in our pitiful excuse of a growing season.
They lure me in with promises of drought tolerance because despite the knee-deep snow in our backyard, we’ll be hot and dry and in the middle of fire season by July. I look at them and imagine huge splashes of color in the middle of a desert looking yard.
They trap me with the pictures of deer behind red NO circles. The words “deer resistant” suggest my flowers will be left to bloom but I know that simply means “appetizer before we move on to the stuff we really like” to our neighborhood herd. It means they’ll bring their babies to munch on new growth before bitter-tasting flowers arrive but I’ll fall for it anyway. I always do.
I fall for it all it. I soak in the suggestion of warmth and sunshine.
I madly type in the coupon codes to grab them before someone in the correct hardiness zone clicks enter before me. I accidentally order bulbs that should have been planted in the fall and won’t arrive until September.
I’ll forget about them by then and will lack the energy to plant them when I should, but still I buy. I can’t help myself.
I may even order vegetable seeds at twice the price of the local nursery because right now all they have in stock are snow shovels. I need my seeds. I need to know there’s a plentiful garden in my future. Under all that snow there are raised beds waiting to be uncovered.
At some point SG will beg me to stop. To step away from the computer. To put down the catalog order forms. He’ll try to convince me we have months more of this. He’ll suggest we go make a snow fort, go sledding, anything to break the spell of promised new growth and flowers.
I’ll come back to reality and accept we don’t live in a place where I can make banana bread from the fruits of our very own tree.
Until the next catalogs arrive and I return to my imagined paradise.
PS- Time for at least a warmer looking header right? One of my favorite places.