A View From My Garden

These dark mornings of the New Year with all their gloom, fog and snow, represent the turning of a page. It is time to plan a garden, time to start lettuce plants under the grow lights in the lean-to greenhouse (guaranteed to be free of E. coli!) and eaten in baby lettuce salads during February. I have been receiving one gorgeously colorful and tempting seed catalogue per day and the stack is approaching record height. There are all the old faithfuls along with a few new ones - some I asked for and some I did not. Never mind, they all make great browsing; the very stuff that dream gardens are made of.

I only pay real attention to the nurseries that grow their own stock above the 47th parallel. It is a belief I have which transcends the US Department of Agricultures time-honored zone system. My experience has shown me failed zone 4 plants and scant germination from seeds grown in the south. They just do not understand. Here in the northland it is already time to be up and doing! No naps until fall (well maybe now and then, at least in July).

Seriously, my insisting on stock and seed from northern nurseries pays off for me. On that basis, I can cut that pile of catalogues by at least two-thirds, although the pages of southern-grown roses are wonderful to look at and to dream over. But I have lived in zone 8-9 country and I know there is a down side to those gorgeous but tender types. The bugs are endless, and the viruses and molds are not far behind. It takes a real winter to keep the foe at bay, for plants and for humans, also. How often we say, "We need a good freeze to knock back the cold and flu bugs." Not very scientific, I guess, but nevertheless, perhaps true.

At the beginning of the cold weather, I dug the carrots and packed them in slightly damp, clean sand in a large Styrofoam cooler in the basement. There were 45 pounds of scarlet Nantes in all and they are keeping well. When they need moisture to keep them from wilting, I put an ice cream bucket full of ice cubes on them. Never enough to truly wet the sand.

Near the carrot cooler is the bench that holds potted geraniums and a couple of other tender perennials which over-winter well under fluorescent tubes. The lights are about 15 feet away from the cooler which sits on the basement floor against the north wall. When I went to the cooler yesterday to bring a supply of carrots up to the refrigerator, I noticed that the lid was lifted about two inches on the front side, facing the grow lights. When I lifted the lid away I found a small jungle of carrot tops, most scrawny white things, but still strong enough to lift the lid of the cooler. And, this is to me the real miracle, a few of those tops, closest to the lifted edge of the lid, were a pale green and formed into real carrot leaves!

We take our plants so much for granted; I, at least, think little of pulling them up and storing them to suit my needs, but there they were, even confined in a dungeon, given only the tiniest chance to actually grow, they were nevertheless, growing. I paused for a moment, with a mental nod toward these sturdy, dedicated, totally honest root beings. Later, while crunching them in time with the games of Wildcard Weekend, I noted that their sweetness had increased - or maybe it was my appreciation that made the difference.