Of cobblers in my garden

March 4, 2019

Snow Day! It snowed all through the night here and the quiet of this first real snow of this slow, recalcitrant winter allowed for a deep, dream-filled sleep.

 Strangely-or perhaps predictably-I dreamt of spring and summer and being in the garden. Admittedly, the garden could not have been my garden because it was lush and mature and completely unlike my garden. Or, more precisely, my non-garden. You see, when we moved to Hurricane Hill, we left behind our big gardens: my tumbling, disorganized perennial beds and overplanted strawberry patch and Wright’s meticulous, precise and productive annual vegetable gardens. Abandoned then was our (finally) established asparagus patch and a huge, bird-secure blackberry enclosure. “No big deal,” we said. “We’ll do it again!” we promised. 

 Faced with a million needs from our new farm-most of them related to neglected buildings and a lot of impenetrable acreage, we punted on the thing we love best. Then my dad died suddenly and anything that was not about keeping my business going and closing down the family business had to be set aside. And so, in those intervening seasons, I slowly became the proverbial cobbler’s child; necessarily focusing my garden energies on cluck’s urban space instead of on the new rural garden challenge just outside my farmhouse window. Now, four years later, that once-promised new garden fares no better. In 2018 we had to focus on the store’s move and the starting-over of its own signature garden oasis. Not a plant was added to our home garden. Not one.

 Not surprisingly, I awoke from last night’s journey to the garden I don’t have in a bit of a funk. We all know you plant a tree today for the person who comes after you, but you plant your flowers for now-or at least the now you will have in three or four years.

I better get started.

 How about you? What cobbler’s child thing are you dreaming about this winter? And how will you begin?

 We open for the 2019 season on March 8th. Maybe you’ll come tell me your plans once we do. Until then, keep dreaming (and make a list).