Snowed In, Seeds on My Mind

Dear friend,

I hope you’re staying warm through these deep-freeze days of winter. After a full week of snow days and road closures, we’re now in the kind of cold snap that makes your cheeks freeze in place as you smile – because hey, at least there’s sunshine. The wind has finally calmed down too, enough for the occasional finch and chickadee to make a brave dash to the feeders again – at least for now. If the snow piles up much higher, the squirrels will have an unfair advantage and the little birds will be out of luck. I’m hoping the seed I scatter on the ground for passing cardinals and juncos will help keep everyone fed and relatively civil.

I can’t even see the tops of the haskap bushes I planted in the fall, and the three-year-old dogwood in the front garden has only its highest branches poking out like it’s testing the air. It’s also hard to believe the raised beds could possibly thaw before July.

The gardens may be tucked under thick blankets of snow, but I have to remind myself that this doesn’t mean nothing is happening. Below the surface, energy is being gathered, roots are strengthening, animals are huddling for warmth, and life is quietly preparing. It’s an active rest of sorts.

Above ground, I’m doing much the same this year – slowly planning, preparing, and nurturing what’s to come. Maybe it’s my age, or maybe it’s my natural resistance to pressure and panic, but I’m moving at a gentler pace than usual. Things are happening … just not in a rush-around-like-a-headless-chicken sort of way.

Last week I started a deep clean and re-organization of the kitchen – bit by bit. The rest of the house will follow, eventually, hopefully. Now that we’ve lived here for three years, it’s become clear that some things I shoved into drawers on moving day are… not in their ideal homes. I’m finally switching things around now that I know how we actually use the space. For example, the cooking utensils used to live in the kitchen island with all the other prep tools. It seemed logical at the time but now they’re in the drawer beside the stove, where they’re actually needed. A small tweak, yes – I’m learning that those are often the ones that make the biggest difference.

I’m still struggling to keep the herbs I brought indoors alive, even under grow lights. As a result, I’ve been sketching and daydreaming about better systems – ones that don’t involve wire shelving and ominous purple lights shoved into random corners of the house. At some point I’ll need to involve Brian in these bright ideas to confirm they are, in fact, physically and structurally possible. I’ll keep you posted.

Yesterday it dawned on me that it’s time to start planning the vegetable gardens for the year, which means seed-starting season is just around the corner. I’ve been going through my notes, reminding myself of lessons learned and experiments I may or may not be brave enough to repeat.

Peas are getting a pass this year – they take up too much space for too little payoff. Broccoli and cabbage are also sitting this season out. I simply don’t have the stamina for another emotional rollercoaster involving brassicas.

Instead, I’m flirting with a few new ideas: Eggplant (ambitious); Luffa (possibly an indoor plant, possibly a delusion); more varieties of lettuce (this feels achievable). And there will definitely be more strawberries joining the existing patch – because that’s just good decision-making.

I’m also hoping for better luck with cucumbers, zucchini, and squash this year, thanks to a dedicated bed that I’m hoping Brian will build. It’ll be lower than the other raised beds and set in an area where they’ll have room to sprawl, wander, and generally behave like they own the place.

After taking my first (of hopefully many) herbal medicinal tea workshops last fall, I’m keen to plant a few medicinal herbs this year – chamomile, red clover (in a planter), and marshmallow. I’ll also be paying closer attention to what’s already established here (echinacea, yarrow, rose), and what grows wild around me (mullein, sumac). I love the idea of creating custom, homegrown tea blends for myself – and maybe a few friends and family members – this year.

With all that in mind, I pulled out my seed stash this morning and got to work sorting and planning. And wow … I have a lot of seeds … possibly enough to last me several lifetimes. I think I’ll donate some of the varieties that don’t thrive here – or the ones I somehow ended up with 200 of – to the seed bank at our local library. I’ve already shared a good portion with the CMHA Food Forest in Owen Sound.

That may sound altruistic, but it was mostly about making room for future experiments – and acknowledging that once you can divide a plant, you really don’t need to keep buying seeds for it. I figured it was best to pass them along while they’re still fresh and useful.

This time around, I created templates for my raised beds so I don’t have to redraw the static ones every year. Naturally, during one of my rare moments of brilliance, I also built in space for pots and planters – for when I inevitably run out of room.

So: templates created (check), plans created (check check), seeds grouped by sowing date, calendar reminders set (check, check, check). Now all I have to do is wait two more weeks for the first batch. Oh, the suspense!

As for outdoor fun, that’s mostly limited to snow clearing (also known as The Great Canadian Workout) and weekend walks around the neighbourhood. Which reminds me – I’m not sure I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m endlessly grateful we found a lot in the bush that offers so much variety for walking. Flat or hilly, short or long, and best of all, very little traffic. Safe, quiet wandering feels like a real gift.

I had a laugh yesterday when I looked back at my old What To Do at the Cottage in Winter post for inspiration, only to realize not much has changed. We’re still going for walks and hosting game days with my sister and brother-in-law – though the Beer Olympics have since been replaced with cooking lessons (for me) and lunch. Growth comes in many forms.

That’s about it for now, dear friend. I hope you’re having a safe, cozy winter wherever you are. Drop me a comment and tell me your favourite winter activity – apparently I’m open to suggestions.

Thanks for keeping me company here for a little while.

Warmly,

P.S. You already know I love writing letters to friends and family. Lately, I’ve started to feel like you, dear reader, fall into that circle too – if not family, then certainly a friend. This letter format feels natural to me, but I’d love to know how it lands with you. Let me know in the comments here or on Facebook if you enjoy this “letter to a friend” style as much as I do.

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