It is the worst bit of winter now here in New England. January and February are not bright cheerful months hereabouts; they are a long slow death-slog through snow and cold and ice and mush. Wednesday's mini-blizzard dumped about fifteen inches of snow on us. Partner and I both had the day off – the university (wisely) closed preemptively the day before – so we stayed in the house, reading and napping and watching TV and baking. We ducked out for a while in the afternoon to shovel out the car, which took about ten minutes (thank god the building has a guy with a snowblower handy), but that was about it. Oh, and also, I took out the garbage, opened the dumpster, saw something big and furry scooting around, assumed it was a rat, shrieked, threw my garbage at it, realized (too late) that it was just Partner's favorite neighborhood squirrel, and let the dumpster lid slam down right on the poor little nutmonkey's kidney. He leapt straight up, landed on the Sno-Cat that was parked next to the dumpster, and disappeared.
I bet he really hates me now.
So it's time for seed catalogs. I dug out the Gurney's catalog yesterday evening and spent some time perusing the various fruits and vegetables and flowering plants. I love that they send these things for free. Man, you can just eat those colors! When you read these things, you always end up with huge visions of summertime – squash as big as a human head, ears of corn like torpedoes, tomatoes like volleyballs, a flower garden that looks like Middle-Earth on crack.
Unfortunately, all I have to work with is a concrete parking-lot and a very narrow windowsill.
Partner and I tilled a small plot in the local community garden for a few years. It was fun, but not very productive; everyone there was very competitive. One guy had gigantic steroid-enhanced tomato plants that looked like oak trees; that was the year of the Great Tomato Blight, though, so all the little yellow tomato blossoms dropped off before they set any fruit.
Tee hee.
You see? It turned me into a horrible person. Finally I quit doing it.
I mean, it's silly to read a seed catalog if you don't have a garden. It's like reading a cookbook if you don't have any food in the house. You're just going to make yourself hungrier.
But it doesn't seem to work that way. It's more like buying a lottery ticket. Yeah, maybe you waste a buck, or a few minutes of your time, but you come away with a beautiful dream, and a smile on your face.
And now, in the dark days of January, with a predatory squirrel on the loose who thirsts for my blood, I can use all the beautiful dreams I can get.
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