Next in my exploration of historic/historical/hysterical garden words is mossery. Quite simply, it is a plantation of mosses. I think that describes my yard quite well. During the winter, when the weather is wet and cold, the mosses flourish. Once it warms up and dries out, the mosses die back and grass and small flowers take over. Most of my neighbors have mainly grass that isn’t green 10 months of the year.
I love the moss, so soft and green. We’re at about 50/50 now.
And in other news…other colors have arrived…
From the top: daffodils, hellebore, red flowering currants, primroses.
I just read an article about how AOC was head of a community garden in Queens NY not long after she was elected to Congress (pardon me if the exact timing on this is wrong; it doesn’t really affect the story I’m telling here) and put out a question on social media about how to approach this venture. Guess who responded? Jeremy Corbyn, the British Labour leader. He gave her some good advice too. But there’s even more fun to be had.
In 2016, Corbyn was seemingly unavailable during an important political negotiation with Virgin Trains because he was “making jam”. Once again, my imagination goes wild. How delightful to think of Corbyn and AOC sharing gardening tips…but taking respite from British politics to make jam is just so soothing right now…
Jeremy, I wouldn’t stick your fingers in that…oh the limitations of my AI dabbling…but I can’t stop.
If politicians could share a community garden, maybe world peace wouldn’t be just a pipe dream. Again, the limits of my AI talents…but what a nice thought, at any rate.
“In the spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours.” — Mark Twain
Oh so true. Here in the Pacific Northwest (PNW to my homies), February isn’t waiting for March to do some roaring. We just had an “atmospheric river” pass overhead. The Weather Channel, as always, was good for some entertainment. “They” said that this river passing by held the watery equivalent of 10 Mississippi Rivers, so I passed day after dark, dreary day of rain counting the rivers…10 Mississippi, 9 Mississippi, 8 Mississippi, then I lost count.
I was indeed a sissi (sic). Letting rain – at some times barely more than a mist, at other times a solid, steady rainfall – get me down.
“People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.” — Roger Hornsby
Spring training has started! I get to listen to announcers gloat over the cloudless skies and temperatures in the 80s at baseball camp in Arizona. Thanks for punctuating our gloom back here at home.
“I glanced out the window at the signs of spring. The sky was almost blue, the trees were almost budding, the sun was almost bright.” — Millard Kaufman
Yeah…thanks again for sharing, Arizonians.
“When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.” ― Ernest Hemingway
Good ol’ Hemingway, you can always count on him to bring you down if you’re getting too happy. But wait! This reminds me of why spring is such a welcome relief from winter! After the assault of people over the holidays, once again we can find solitude in our gardens!
Happy spring, whenever it arrives! Happy gardening, garden planning, end of winter!
she doesn’t have any indoor space to start plants in February? Plus it’s so cold outside that she’s still not gonna rake it? She can talk about what she wishes she could do re: gardening but that requires copious amounts of alcoholic beverages to overcome the melancholy of endless cold gray days…
Or she could have fun with gardening words and phrases alongside AI images she generates. I came across a webpage of gardening terms from bygone days and decided to play around. Spank me but…AI image generation is fun.
So true to my Twisted roots, give me some slack and don’t be afraid to smile…
My first phrase is privy garden, and the phrase once meant a private garden, usually one reserved for kings and queens. But not being of noble blood, and having lived for decades without indoor plumbing…my Twisted brain took me here:
A garden can provide us with food, beautiful flowers, and herbs for health and added deliciousness, but it can also add stress and even unnecessary competitiveness. We can link our results to our identity more than is healthy.
This is why I find solace in chaos gardening. I do what I can to the best of my knowledge and abilities, working with what I have and what I am. I am content to step back and let nature do its thing. Gardening is self-expression; it brings me peace if I can laugh at my mistakes; it allows me to grow as I watch the plants grow.
These plants and I have a deeply symbiotic relationship. I give them what I can; they return the favor. If our relationship becomes too stressful, we take a step back. Eventually, we come to terms with our differences and remember what it is that gives us joy in our relationship.
Our imperfections, mine and my garden’s, are what make us unique. If I work with nature, with presence and care, both of us will be in some way beautiful. Neither of us are concerned with trying to impress anyone.
As I work with care in the moment, it is the process that brings us joy and peace. The results are beautiful, in their own way. Chaos with a touch of Zen
Weeds…oregano gone wild…daffodils deciding they’d rather come up in the middle of the path this spring…that one big unknown plant taking over the herb bed…that rugosa rose that keeps getting whacked by the string trimmer…the hazelnuts that have never produced nuts…the apple trees that barely produce any tiny apples…
It is too cold to do anything about it, now…
So I glory in the beauty of the clear blue sky…I rejoice that I don’t live in northern Florida, under snow…I bask in the sunshine streaming in my window…I delight as the birds slowly return…I laugh at the squirrels…I wonder how many more rabbits will appear…and how many of the does in my yard are growing fawns inside…
I exercise to tone my body, gaining strength and flexibility slowly…I continue testing seeds (oh joy! my very old basil seeds sprouted exuberantly!)…I wait patiently…
Age has taught me, it’s never too late to do more than you did yesterday…more exercise reps…more house cleaning…more laundry…more writing in my journal…more sleeping…eating more vegetables…
And it’s never too late to do less…less worrying…less eating…smaller portions, fewer carb snacks…less judging…less focusing on imperfections…
As I gaze at my sleeping garden, I love it more, anticipating the return of the color spring green…
As I look within myself, I love myself more, anticipating a year of returning joy outdoors and expanding joy in my heart.
Neither my garden nor I are diminished by our flaws.
This time of year, I look for color in my refrigerator. Every meal, I choose what I eat according to the colors, trying to include green and as many bright colors as possible. As winter wears on in its weary way, the colors come from farther away…boo! Local foods from local farms and gardens are so much more flavorful. But I’ll settle for broccoli and brussel sprouts, cauliflower and potatoes, carrots, radishes, turnips…trying my best to brighten my plate.
I’m also test germinating seeds from my dubious seed stash, so many seeds that aren’t labeled as to when they were harvested. Seed packets with dates on them that (no pun intended) push the envelope of whether they are still viable. One scarlet runner bean sprouting, nudging memories of that year (about 20 years ago) when I dedicated a thirty-foot garden bed to just them. What a riot of color that row was, so worth it just for the joy.
In sharp contrast, five borage seeds are sprouting, along with the memories of small star-shaped blue flowers on fuzzy plants. Blue is not always an easy color to add to your garden. It’s also why a patch of blue sky today is so welcome…
Today I’m sorting through old seeds. (Spoiler: I don’t throw any seeds away, however old they may be). I have a seed viability chart handy and sort the seeds into two piles.
One is much larger than the other because I’m eternally optimistic. This is the “worth trying” pile. The other is the “probably hopeless but I’ll scatter them somewhere in the spring” pile. As in, the chart says they’re viable for one or two years and these are 8 years old…some may say I’m throwing them away, but I’m giving them to a good home, may they rest in peace if they don’t sprout.
A few at a time (because I have limited space to work with), I’ll wrap a few of the worth trying seeds in damp paper towels, and place the towels into carefully labeled plastic ziplock bags, and set them in a warm place. This is how I decide what to grow next spring. I may supplement with a nursery plant or two (or so I tell myself), but that is planned with seed catalog viewing…after the viability tests are over.
Seed catalog browsing will be my January “gardening”. I buy all my seeds from a local farm, just a few miles from my home. My favorite nursery just a few miles further away.
