Daydreams of Spring

First day of February, one month counted off from our new year already. Tonight rain is lashing the windows, has battered away much of the deep snow that covered the world a week ago. Wind howling, and the flashing lights of the sand truck making its rounds - it's just cold enough to turn the rain into ice pellets and make driving slippery.

All around us this winter it's been snow, rain, ice in turn, never sure what the next few days might bring. I love the snow, it covers the trees, the yard, heaps around the house and keeps the cold at bay, protects the garden under a winter blanket and covers the cellar in a protective layer of warmth. With snow, having frozen pipes is a lot less likely and power outages not such a worry. Icy rain is much less friendly, hate the cold battering sound it makes against the windows.

The seed catalogues have been coming in every few days for a while, and I'm already daydreaming about what new plant combinations to try for next summer's garden. Have to outwit the deer as much as possible, so colourful strong smelling herbs are a good bet, they don't seem to like them much. On the other hand, they love the tulips. Last spring they ate every one of my pretty pink Angelique tulips just when they were about to bloom. They'd been a lovely housewarming gift from a friend when we first moved here four years ago, and I do miss them.

Maybe I'll try daffodils next, haven't had any for a few years and I love their bright spring show. A few years ago I sent for a fragrant mix from Cruikshanks, a mail order catalogue no longer available. They were lovely, buttery shades of cream and soft gold, and heavenly scented too. In my garden album, I have photos of spring daffodils in the city garden I left behind. It was my first real garden and I remember it fondly, spent many wonderful hours in that modest back yard garden.

At this time of year, it's lovely to dream over the lush photos in the seed catalogues. Budget constraints, pests and space restraints don't rear their annoying heads now, and the dream garden can be whatever I like on this rainy night. Later it will be time to pick and choose and be realistic about what is possible, for tonight I can dream. Here's to gardens past and future, real and imagined. Few things in life offer as much reward as a good hour working in a garden. It's of benefit to mind and body to work in the good earth for a while. I'm dreaming of spring a little more every day.

"When daisies pied and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight..."

(Shakespeare, Love's Labour Lost)