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john_d31

Playing in the snowy garden

John_D
19 years ago

It has started to snow, just as the weathermen said it would. I usually fret when it snows -- or if there's merely a snowy forecast -- because I am usually on the road at the height of winter, traveling north and south over high mountain passes or stuck in cities where no one knows how to drive in the white stuff. While today's snow is not yet sticking, it is beginning to linger in some of the more frosty places and, as the temperatures drop tonight, it will quickly enshroud shrubs and trees.

But, for once, I am not fretting. I'm sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine and, as I look out at the snow, I'm smiling because I do not have to go out in it -- unless I want to. I might take a walk later on, through the snowy woods down to the shore to see how many tracks of my wild animal neighbors I can spot in the newly fallen snow, and I may stroll up the hill to the pub for a mug of hot, spiced cider or mulled ale.

During the past two years, I finished several big writing projects and, because I saved up enough money, I decided to take off 2005 to paint, but something funny happened as I looked at the snowy garden: instead of laying out a painting, my mind conceived a book, a simple book about my garden.

What a better time to start a garden book than the height of winter, when snow covers the ground and most plants sleep (except for camellias and other hardy bloomers). Instead of hunting slugs, murdering buttercups and dandelions, or thinning out the somber jungle corners, I will be watching bushtits, chickadees, nuthatches, and wrens as they search the branches of shrubs and trees for over-wintering insects, and I will be enjoying the antics of woodpeckers as they probe the bark for beetles and grubs. Sparrows and towhees will be searching the garden and the roadside for seeds dropped by weeds and annual flowers, and hawks will be dropping by for a quick snack. At night, I will be keeping and eye on the raccoons who frolic in the garden and play tag with the skunks (they have convinced one of the skunks that it's actually a raccoon, and it now runs with the pack).

Snow never stays very long this close to our saltwater shore, but I'm hoping it will stick around long enough for me to get started on the book. After the snow melts, I will keep an eye on mosses flowing ever so slowly over logs and rocks, on unfurling ferns, and swelling buds. As winter eases into spring . . . . no, that's still in the future. I'll think and write about that as it happens. Right now, I'm off to take a walk in the snow.

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