Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Heard that expression? My husband proposed to me after I took a week long trip out of the country. He couldn't stand my being away! I feel that way right now.
It seems to me like it's been a pretty cold Fall and Winter this year. I have to admit that I truly hate the cold and wet weather that seems so prevalent this year in particular. Weren't there a few days last winter that reached the high 60s and low 70s? I could get outside, do a few chores, and let the sun warm my face.
I must suffer from some sort of seasonal depression. It reminds of the old tv show, Northern Exposure, I used to watch in college. Did you ever watch it? The episode where the residents of the small Alaskan town put on head lamps during the winter when the sun never showed itself. Hilarity ensued. So funny. I need to get one of those lamps. I miss the bright sunshine that doesn't hit you behind your sunglasses at the wrong angle. I miss the sunshine that is bright and orange, not dull and gray. Will Winter last forever? Feels like it.
As a result of the colder weather, most of my Fall cleanup chores have been neglected. There are leaves all over my beds, I never dug up my calla lilies (which are sure to have died this year), the stems of annuals I never pulled up still poke out of the ground by my sidewalk, containers have not been cleaned out . . . you get the idea. My garden has been orphaned, poor thing!
But there is some hope. I see little green daffodil leaves poking up through the oak leaves. And I've got a stack of seed catalogues on my desk that's ready for an extended browsing during the little one's naptime. I got a gift card from Christmas to my favorite nursery that's ready the minute that the spring sales begin. The sun is setting later and later everyday.
I'm not the first to feel this way, not the last either. But for an avid gardener, the winter seems endless. My heart misses gardening . . . the dirty hands, the creativity, the long strolls down the nursery aisles looking for a good deal on astilbes . . . ahh. I love her - my garden. (I think of her as a female on the whole. Individual plants do vary in gender though.) I can't wait until she comes home again. Just a little longer . . .
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