Winter is a trial for me. Days are short, dark and really cold. I recognize the romance in a roaring fire and twinkling lights around our front door, but my spirit flags halfway through the season. I miss the warmth of the sun. I miss my garden.
Recently though, on a balmy winter day, my survival instinct kicked in and I began dreaming of spring, and a new garden.
It started innocently enough, with a photo I admired on Gardenista.com. This garden had an uncanny similarity to the terrace off our kitchen, assuming you mixed in a whole lot of imagination. The photo was of a sumptuous garden, framing a perfect putting green piece of turf.
Our flagstone terrace is busy with pots of annuals in fair weather, a way station for firewood in the winter, and a thoroughfare to prettier parts of the yard.
Yet, when I imagined the magical Gardinista garden, transposed onto our dull terrace space…voila!….. things got very exciting.
And that’s what we did.
My husband is a saint. He saw this coming one day, as he found me in the yard with a measuring tape and stakes. He knows I’m a restless dreamer, but restless dreaming comes at a price.
Though the flagstones were not set on a concrete pad, a lot of work had to be done lifting out the stones, bringing in topsoil, laying brick borders for the flower beds, knocking down a wall and leveling out the second portion of the garden beyond the old terrace.
Fast forward, and add in the ‘at a price’ part, and here we are. Maybe we should tee it up and launch a few into the trees, where mine always end up anyway.
I have lots of plans flickering through my mind for the flower beds- sea thistle and blue fescue, lavender and geranium, canterbury bells and poppies…. and roses! I’m musing over color palettes and imagining this space alive with butterflies, bees and hummingbirds.
Then suddenly, with a new fallen snow, I was reminded that winter always hangs on longer than we would like. But in the waiting, hope becomes real, and dreams feel possible.