February Dreams

Good Morning,

We are in the midst of another blizzard. At least twelve inched of new snow has fallen since late yesterday afternoon. It is beautiful. It is also February, and thoughts of the spring garden are beginning to stir after the long winter sleep.

In many ways, February ushers in the beginning of the gardening season. In January, winter still feels young and very deep. The snow falls, the wind howls, and the light continues to be elusive. It is February that heralds the return of the light. Although the winter solstice marks the turn in the cycle of darkness of December, that change isn’t fully experienced until the second month of the year. At this point there is such a longing for the light, that we feel our spirits lift. It is no surprise that early man celebrated the return of the light. They were more tied to the land than we are, and for them it meant their very survival.

The modern gardener celebrates in a different way. The seed and garden catalogues begin to arrive, and we pour over them for hours on snowy afternoons or in the middle of sleepless dark nights. Even on the coldest of February days, the sun feels warm. The pelergoniums and albutions start to bloom profusely in the windows with a southern exposure. The tete a tete daffodils and primrose appear in markets and garden centers.

We begin to dream.

New garden beds are configured, a particularly challenging new rose is added to the design, or maybe the decision is made to try growing a fruit tree or unusual heirloom tomato. Our thoughts and dreams are shifting back toward the garden, as the earth is shifting on its axis.

We have more in common with the botanical world than we realize. Light is essential to plant growth. Through the process of photosynthesis, plants manufacture their own food molecules using energy obtained from light. The primary mechanism plants have for capturing light energy is the pigment chlorophyll. This is the process that provides sustenance to the plant. In a more symbolic way, sunlight provides food to the gardener. As the sun begins to rise earlier and set a bit later, even the two extra minutes of light at sunrise and sunset feel like a holiday. Here in the north, where for months we come and go from work in the dark, we notice even the subtlest of changes.

Gardeners experience their own kind of photosynthesis as the light increases. The food provided by the increased sunlight fuels our energy level, the planning process, and the activities of preparation. Tools are sharpened, pots are scrubbed, an inventory of garden supplements is taken, the potting bench is cleaned and organized, and the garden furniture is dragged out from the corner of the basement to be given a fresh coat of paint.  All of these activities mark the true beginning of the gardening season. After our enforced period of rest, these activities are a welcome change. We have waited patiently for the earth to, once again, slant on its axis, and to experience the changes in the quality of light. Seasoned gardeners know that our own version of chlorophyll is beginning to course through our veins.

The resurrection has begun - and not a moment to soon.