Making the most of the garden in winter
January is often the coldest month of the year where I survive in the Midwest . Theraised garden bedsin my backyard that overflow with lush plants , flowers and veggie during the quick summertime calendar month are barren , brown and often breed with a few inches of Charles Percy Snow . It ’s heavy not to find a little blue with spring still month away .
I keep those blue at bay tree by grabbing a third cupful of burnt umber ( do n’t try me ) , looking out my window and moon about natural spring flowers and garden plans . I also get a smiling think of how my Grandma Jo transformed her vegetable garden one wintertime in the 1980s .
My Grandma Jo lived in the res publica with a jumbo sloped hill that was a sodding sledding destination for my cousins and friends . One winter she did something extra exciting : She flooded her garden with the hose and turned it into an ice - skating rink .
As a mega fan of the Olympics from a untried years , I became Mary Lou Retton if there was a gymnastics mat anywhere in the vicinity . With my very own trash rink , I could be Kristi Yamaguchi ! I was in heaven .
sure as shooting , the ice was rocky and uneven , ship me skidding across the frozen garden in my snowpants , bruising my knees , tailbone , and ego when my toe pick caught a rough patch . And sure , the temperature was probably below 0 , leave behind my toes numb in bridge player - me - down skate and my fingertips prickle with frostbite in soused mittens . But it scarce mattered . The jumps , spins and triple axels I taught myself would sure as shooting qualify me for the next Olympics .
Now , you and I both cognize I was n’t getting more than an inch off the trash with those sweet jumps , and my threefold axel look suspiciously like skating rearward . But in my 12 - year - older mind , this was a scant political platform worthy of an audience .
The skating rink in all likelihood only lasted a few workweek , melting into a turbid pool as soon as the weather warm up . But that computer memory has endure 30 years in my mind as one of the most marvelous uses of Grandma Jo ’s garden . on-key , the details are getting fuzzier . Was I in sixth or 7th mark ? Was there really a bonfire to warm up our hands when we fetch cold or was that a different time ? Did I skate for minute like I remember or was it just minutes before I was ready for hot cocoa and the affectionateness of Grandma ’s household ? Was that triple axel as spectacular as I can depict it ?
disregardless of specific , the memory of skating fills me with nostalgia as I look out at my own flash-frozen garden . Maybe this twelvemonth I ’ll ask my married man to progress a homemade skating rink in our backyard . I bet I can still skate rearward .
After the horticulture time of year , you’re able to discover Jamie tap aside on her laptop , working on a new book or Googling “ simple glasshouse plans ” so she and Scott can really can grow peppers all class long .
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