My fellow Alaskans, nay my fellow gardeners almost everywhere, we’ve survived the gloomy portion of the year. For the next 5 months, it is increasing daylight. Hurrah! I don’t count falling onto my bum on the icy driveway, ripping a mud flap off of my car on a poorly positioned landscaping rock, or not being able to cross country ski for a month for lack of snow as gloomy. (Painful and occasionally expensive, yes.)
From this point on there shall be smiles, vitamin D absorption, and the occasional peek at sandals hidden in a deep, dark corner of the closet. Last year the sandals came out for two days. Maybe this year, if I’m a really good little gardener, it will be three.
The reality of more than 4 hours of sunshine has gotten me a little giddy. I made, in a rash moment, goals for my garden. Or the plain old yard that will become a garden after approximately ten years, a large chunk of my time, quite a bit of hollering at the fates, a few pints of my blood, and a fat wad of cash.
The goals don’t involve the pitchfork, as a direct result of the Great Leg Skewering of 2012 that will go down in family lore. A current tetanus shot saved the day, but not the dignity/mobility of the involved party. (As an aside and on the advice of my lawyer, never, never lend out your pitchfork.)
And they don’t involve the wheelbarrow (praise be, glory hallelujah!) because Santa brought me a sturdy garden cart. I most definitely favor two wheels over one, having had professional experience in bruise creation and OSHA hazard development with each. Sometime I’ll have to share the tale of the elephant that used to chase me on a daily basis whilst I was wheeling garden carts around at a previous gig. If escaping large mammals is a priority, stick with the cart, people.
Getting to the point has never been a feature of this blog, so thanks for hanging in there to find out the actual, real goals. 1. I will plant a tree. 2. I will plant no less than two dozen perennials of no more than three types. Humble, but realistic. A low expectation ensures happiness, I find.
Also, I must add 3. I will not holler at the fates more than reason when the fragile plantings are lightly trampled by errant moose, bicycle tires, or stray husbands trying to install new second-story windows atop a plant crushing aluminum ladder. Now I just need to find out how to artfully drape moose-repelling razor wire in a tree canopy…any tips?
Goals in the garden? Enjoying the sunshine?