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As I begin to write this, I'm reminded of those post cards you see
everywhere. They're black and in yellow letters say "So I haven't written
much lately. Neither has Shakespeare".
Yes I admit it - my journal updates have been scarcer than Hugh Hefner in a
woman's studies class. But believe me when I say that I was really thinking
hard about what I could write about since the sod got laid in my
neighborhood. But winter robbed me of my roses and apparently, my
brainpower as well.
However, despite the barrenness that all of us in Zone 4 have been dealing
with the last few months, I did toy on occasion with the topic of
gardening. For example, around Christmas my friend Deanna and I got into a
discussion about how certain items became symbolic of the season.
Poinsettias stumped us. What exactly is the relation of this plant to
Christmas? But then came gifts to buy, decorations to put up, baking to do,
all the usual madness and then poinsettias didn't seem so relevant by
January 15th.
I had a winter vacation planned. I thought this would be a great
opportunity to perhaps write about tropical foliage with some great
accompanying pictures. Well, things didn't work out as I planned and here I
remain in Toronto, surrounded by slush, snow banks and a grumpy populace
that at this point, is thankful for even 5 minutes of sustained sunlight.
Which brings me to this journal entry. I know last time I was philosophical
about winter, the enforced rest it brings upon nature and ourselves, the
appreciation of spring and summer that it breeds in us and yes, the fact
that it doesn't last forever.
Yeah, whatever.
This has been longest goddamned winter of my life. If I don't see something
green besides the mold in my bathroom sometime soon, I'm going to snap.
Five months without the smell of dirt just does something to a gardener.
Five months without colour, five months without buds, then blooms, then
full, unmitigated splendor! Five months of winter's accumulated crap now
sitting in my garden, waiting to be cleaned. Some passerby actually chucked
some Tupperware in there. Yes, you read that right - Tupperware. The only
thing that's growing in my garden right now is whatever that black lumpy
green thing is inside the container. Oh the horror...
My only saving grace is that this year, for the first time, I'll be
attending Canada Blooms, Toronto's Annual Flower and Garden show. My
cunning plan is to wear combat fatigues and hide out there in the garden
displays for the whole show. My theory is that 1) the show attendees will
just think I'm a hardcore gardener or 2) they'll cut me a wide berth, as
they'll think I'm a member of some anti-government militia's Canadian
satellite. I know that you, my fellow Zone 4 gardeners who have bravely
borne this winter with me, understand my desperation.
So, if you happen to stop by Canada Blooms and see some crazed looking,
wearied young woman hauling around ten potted tulips, a cartload of
seedlings, six garden sculptures and some wind chime earrings, don't worry.
It's just me.
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