Blizzardish and the White Street Girls

Today is Tuesday, and there is a blizzard going on out my window. I am thinking about spring, perhaps a leftover feeling from Saturday, when it was 70 degrees. Or maybe it is the wind and snow and cold that make me want to have dirty fingernails and grubby ankles even more. It is hard to tell, but the feeling is real. And it is not just me. All the pictures of seedlings emerging, from the safety of their heated greenhouses, on my social media feeds make me ache to grow even more of my own food.


I always have big plans for the garden. That is the best part about winter in the Midwest, the dreams of the biggest garden yet, with more varieties of tomatoes than you can count, and a few ducks to go along with chickens. Because duck eggs, that’s why. And mushrooms! More shiitake logs, and potato towers, and cucumbers growing out of hanging baskets, and herbs--so many herbs! And flowers, flowers to eat, flowers to pick, flowers for the pollinators! And speaking of pollinators--BEES. I also want bees.

So as the snow falls and the wind howls, more wind than snow, actually, I make plans in my mind for how I will tear out all of the old raised beds and build bigger ones, how I will fence off the chickens so that they don’t destroy everything, and ponder where to put the  beehives and the mushroom logs. I ordered way too many seeds, as usual. But at least this year I, with the help of John, have a great seed starting shelf-heat-light system, and so there is hope that I will grow some decent starts.