It was 64° according to the thermometer on the front porch, but the flower beds were still under several inches of icy snow. I was antsy: It was too nice to stay indoors, and I had already taken an hour-long walk on the muddy road, up into the partially bared woodland trail.
Fortunately, I have an outdoor activity area for just such a situation.
There is a pile of rocks next to our garage. The bottom-most boulders are probably the remains from digging out the cellar when the house was built in 1860. A middle layer of oblong, 6-inch thick slabs were deposited when we had to re-do the sills and field stone cellar walls. On top of that are slabs of cement that had been the garage floor before we moved the garage from one side of the house to the other.
The rock pile has become home to a variety of wild plants whose roots snake through the gaps in the rocks and delve deep into the soil below. A good-sized red maple tree grew up through the pile for many years, but eventually succumbed to harsh conditions. Around it grew ostrich fern and greater celandine, burdock and sow thistle, buttercup and raspberries and through it all, twine Virginia creeper and wild clematis. The snow melts early on this spot, which has a much nicer southern exposure than most of the flower beds. Seems a waste, but that is the lie of the land.
So, on that warm day I knew just what to do to scratch my gardening itch. I collected cutting, raking and digging tools and headed for the rock pile. The dead maple was cut down a few years ago, and I have been puttering away at the rest of the vegetation for a couple of years. Every early spring there are days just like this – too nice to stay indoors, too early to work in the garden. I hope eventually I can tame this wild spot sufficiently to make it an attractive natural area instead of an eyesore.
Jo Busha is the author of a book of essays called Time and the Garden, which reflect on one woman’s experience and evolution as a gardener and devotee of rural, small town life. Like during the “back to the land” movement of the 1970s, we are in a period of renewed interest in gardening and agrarian lifestyles. This book will appeal to gardeners, readers looking for a strong sense of place, and those who dream of such a life even if they aren’t able to live it. It is not a how-to book, but gardeners may find the essays instructive. It is, perhaps, a cozy book, a good read on a snowy day.