The Sophisticated Survivalist
Why do seed catalogues arrive in the winter? Because that is when gardeners have clean enough hands to read them. This is when gardeners who have just taken down the Christmas lights and tossed them into the box under the stairs take a deep breath because... planting season is The Next Big Event. Sure, frost is still crippling the rosemary shrub, but months of meticulous planning are afoot, with pencil poised at lips and scraps of paper scribbled on and tossed aside. Like the restaurant reservation made weeks ahead, the anticipation can be delicious. And the non-gardeners do some eye rolling and point out "here isn't that much to think about – get some seeds and stick em in. Well, they are wrong, aren t they?
There is much afoot for the Sophisticated Survivalist. There is much to plan. For those of us learning to glean an abundant harvest over many months, there are decisions to be made. For instance, for those finally remembering to have a winter garden, it would be best to buy seeds now ( purple sprouting broccoli, I think, and maybe kale, and chard... and cabbage and Brussels sprouts!) to have on hand for the day in June when you will remember to plant them. And it is best to prepare the planting site too, and instead of putting a bunch of silly flowers in it, fill it with manure and mulch to keep it cool and rich, and full of life until the time is right.
And squash would be good too, wouldn't it? Keeps for months without refrigeration or other fuss... cooks up well, wrapped in tinfoil, in the back of the oven with the rest of dinner. But squash takes a lot of room in the garden so it is time to scribble out that new bed of dahlias. And then we would have to pick a variety – something sweet – something that would make a good soup – maybe that Buttercup type. And maybe a turban squash, just for effect. And if there is space, a pumpkin or two, for pies.
And leeks and beets and carrots – best to pick an early and a late one, to stretch out the harvest and cover any problems with drought or bugs. They all keep well in the ground, having no calendar of their own, while we are making up our minds what to eat. And heck, you can throw them in the soup pot, too.
And beans of course, and not just to pick off the stem for a quick nosh, but also to husk, with a musical sound, into a glass jar for winter. They will sit there for a couple of years waiting for you to try those new recipes and you can always take that last handful out and plant it back into the soil. Doesn't really matter what kind they are, or if you have forgotten their name. They will grow regardless. And peas – must try some new cooking peas. Better scratch out that patch of petunias down near the gate. What were you thinking? Pea soup coming up!
And of course you'll just have to grow some garlic... might want to try shallots this year, too – they're basically the same as far as growing is concerned, and they keep in a paper bag for months, in a box under the couch. Sweet little things, and you never waste a whole onion for a small snack ever again. And, oh, this is a bit much, but of course you just replant some shallot bulbs out of the bag next year, to keep things going. Never can be too smug... I mean, sophisticated.
And I hope there is space for a potato patch. I know – they're cheap at the store, but just in case the store was closed... well, there those taters would be. I have some permanent potato beds, never rotated into another bed, and I know that all autumn, winter and spring long, I can turf out a few tubers to fill out a meal, and the rest of them just go on, well mulched, basically without me. The naysayers lie in wait , year after year, for disaster to befall this no-work plan. I just eat the potatoes. I figure they didn't rotate much in South America over the last million years. Why make them dizzy?
Of course, don't let brute pragmatism get in your way while garden dreaming. Let that cute new Asian green lure you from the tried and true. Go for one good bag of something completely unpredictable. It's probably cheaper than a cup of coffee.
We can see we don't have to be too intimi-dated by the possibilities. The plants know what to do. It's just the way we hold our jaw while sketching out our new garden that gives everything an extra bit of importance. And that is why our catalogues come so early in the season – so we can swim in the possibilities, the dreams, the sweet crunch... and be that darn mini step further away from dependence. That has to taste good!
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