The Winter Wait

You know when the kids in the backseat of the car constantly ask, “Are we there yet?” Well, that’s been me the past few weeks while I dream of spring. Don’t get me wrong, I love the changing of the seasons. My Northeastern roots keep me longing for that first snowflake of the season and the sight of a winter wonderland.  I love cuddling under a blanket, slowing down, and recharging my battery. It’s a time for renewal and rest. The plants need it, and I need it. And so, there are many reasons to love and appreciate winter (except shoveling; I could do without that), but every year, about this time, I decide I’ve had enough and I am ready for spring.

It’s been nearly three months since I put my hands in the soil. Eighty-eight days, 2,112 hours, 126,720 minutes, and 7,603,200 seconds (but who’s counting?). I miss having plants in my life. Houseplants temporarily fill the void, but I long to be outside among the flowers. I yearn to taste fresh produce from the garden. I miss butterflies and bees and crave seeing the sunshine on these grey days, longing to feel it on my face.

Over the past few years, I’ve realized that I need plants, almost like oxygen. They are essential to me, and without them, I wither. Being a grower has become such an integral part of who I am that I feel like I’m missing a piece of myself without it. My hands need to be in the soil, and my heart needs to be nurturing seedlings. It’s who I am. And after taking years to figure that out, I’m never letting that part of me go.

I’ve held off these powerful longings by dreaming. I am dreaming of the season to come, sorting through my seeds, looking at photographs of previous growing seasons, and planning out my beds. In the past three months, I’ve read gardening books, taken gardening classes, and talked to everyone who will listen about gardening. I apologize to the cashier at the grocery store who unwittingly made the mistake of asking me a garden question. She’ll probably never make that mistake again. I can’t help it; I’m a plant nerd.

Dreaming certainly helps, but I can only dream for so long before I want to make them a reality. I know they say that patience is a virtue, and so I’m trying, I am. But, boy, I’m itching to get growing again. I can’t wait to see the first signs of spring. I long to see the first tulips bloom, bees buzzing around, and birds building nests. Then, and only then, will I feel whole again.

Are you missing being in the garden as much as I am? Perhaps we growers should check on one another during this difficult time.

Winter can sometimes feel endless, with its grey skies and cold temperatures. But, I guess when we are forced to wait for something, we appreciate it all the more when it comes. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say. And I can understand that nature, too, needs to rest. We all do. Because once we rest, we have the energy to bloom. And I, for one, can’t wait to bloom.

So, I’ll defer to you, Mother Nature, and respect your timeline. But, perhaps, just maybe, you could hurry up a bit.