An Iowa Garden

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While Iowa has never allowed that elusive goal of year-around gardening, it is a rare year that doesn't see me at least puttering around out in our woodland garden in all seasons and months. This year is an exception; I don't believe I've set foot out there for a month (of course half of that time I was slurping down margaritas in a cantina on the beach in Zihuatanejo). At any rate, I presently could not even enter the garden if I wanted to, as the gates are all sealed shut by ice and snow. This has led to an odd feeling of estrangement from what I vaguely recall as a pretty nice flower garden; I can't even at present work up any enthusiasm over looking through the piles of flower catalogues that arrived while we were gone.
But, March is on our doorstep; soon foolish robins will be floundering about in the snow, wondering where the worms went; the snow will then eventually melt, the snowdrops will rise from the cold, dark earth like so many little ghosts... and spring will be upon us.
We must therefore have faith... though an extra week in Mexico would have helped, too.


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