Saturday, December 6, 2008

December ponderings, mixed with a bit of snow


A large plowed field will be waiting for me in the spring


A couple of weeks ago, a neighbor drove his tractor and plow up the road to my garden and gave it a once-over. We had been generous with the honey we had given to him and his wife, so he returned the favor, and we are grateful to him.

I had in mind extending the garden from last year's dimensions, and I had marked off -- more or less -- the borders that I wanted him to plow.

Kenneth (the neighbor) apparently didn't think I was working hard enough, however, so he proceeded to plow beyond my markings, and now I have a garden that's about 150 feet long and 50 feet. I suspect that gives me nearly twice the growing space that I had last spring and summer.

Whew!

That will certainly make for an interesting planting and growing season next year. Right now, and for the next three months, its planning season. And right on schedule, the seed catalogues have begun to show up. Today, we got one from Totally Tomato.

Looking at the pictures, I begin to imagine what next year might be like.

I do that after walking around the garden this morning as the snow was coming down and even beginning to stick. The snow won't amount to much today, but it was pretty and pleasant and non-threatening.

It reminds me of how different things will look six months from now.

And that difference is one of God's blessings to us.

1 comment:

cborges said...

Such a lovely place you have. In the 60s I lived on a 350 acre farm in the Berkshires. We had rented it with other people to build a fleet of cement boats. We got so busy learning to grow stuff the boats kind of got shorted. It was a wonderful time through. We had goats, chickens, cows, horses and fabulous organic food. Our biggest novice mistake was planting a 100 ft. row of zuchinni. There were actually fights over the harvested hundreds. No neighbors would take any of course. We were too conscientious to throw any away. It became a real joke in our small town--"those stupid hippies with all those extra zucchinis." I cried when we finally launched the boats and moved away from our grand mountaintop.