The cover crop is coming up. There will be a slow but steady yield of chard and kale, and a little artichoke digging its roots in for a boisterous second season.
Like my garden beds, this blog will go relatively untended through the winter. If you want something fun to read on a cold winter morning, you're welcome to visit my blog about at-risk youth:
http://kids-are-crazy.blogspot.com
May your winter be a time of quiet dinners and merry feasts, with loved ones and friends. May your turning-inward yield insight and peace. Remember, like the leaves: do not be afraid to let go.
See you in Spring!
1 comment:
Actually we have several trees with leaves that won’t let go, all of them deciduous oaks. The native white oak leaves turn a toasty, whole wheat brown and then hang on; the leaves of a scarlet oak turn a very satisfying red, especially when backlit, then a deep russet as they hang on. And I’ve seen other oaks around town covered with dried leaves. Only new spring growth apparently pushes them from their lofty perches. When I first noticed this peculiar habit (we’re recent arrivals from the season-less south) I thought it a detraction but now that we have planted a few in our landscape (because we love oaks, anyway we can get them), the dried hangers-on are clearly a benefit. The surrounding woods of big leaf maples, alders and cascara are quite bare by mid December so the dried oak leaves are a pleasant contrast to all those gray branches, lingering like the last few party guests to help us slowly unwind from a wild fall.
There are, of course, the evergreens, the cedars, hemlocks and firs, plus the hollies, strawberry trees, bays, vacciniums, and the fragrant sarcococcas. But the oak leaves are more like the dried stems and seed heads we leave on the dormant perennials and wild grasses, a big dried arrangement for winter (and, in the case of the seed heads, food for the juncos and chickadees). So maybe it’s OK for some of us to hang on.
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