A representation of the Gardener made of compressed snow.
“There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you…. In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.”
— Ruth Stout
The new year’s gotten off to a slow start, though not intentionally so. There were still deadlines to meet, projects that need attention, and a whole new season to plan for.
Instead, I gave into being sick, took copious naps, read a lot of novels, drank many cups of herbal tea, and generally retreated.

I like the new beginning that January represents. I also like what Simona says about not wanting to make resolutions, “…which feels like a burden we place on the new year before it is old enough to stand on its feet.”
So, we’ll let the year unfold, unburdened, and wait for it to reveal itself bit by bit.
This day, I learned how to make a snowman, or at least the start of one. It would seem an obvious thing, though not to me, having grown up in sunnier climes. I imagine this a skill passed on from sibling to sibling, parent to child. The snow’s receded since then, but the giant ball of snow remains. It now looks like an iceberg, sitting in the middle of our field, growing slightly smaller every day.
The sight of new growth is something we usually greet with delight. But, what are we to make of chives sprouting up in January? It’s impossible to hibernate when it’s a balmy 64°F out, that’s what.
The protective snow cover was washed away by rain showers, and is now completely gone. It’s almost shocking to find the chives, along with the more tender cutting celery (above) and parsley, not only alive but putting out fresh shoots.
Of the woodier herbs, like lavender, thyme (above) and sage, only the rosemary has succumbed. For the moment at least, we’ve thrown open all of the windows to welcome the outside in. Snowfall and much colder temperatures are expected by mid-week.
“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.” — Edith Sitwell
After days of veering between rain and sleet, we’ve finally settled into some snow.
The garden’s made it through the end of the year, the sunny day giving us the chance for one last harvest before the cold overcomes it.

Gardening in winter brings its own set of challenges. The beds had to be dug out and the covers unstuck from where they’ve frozen in place. In the greens bed (above), plastic covered hoops and an inside layer of fabric has kept the soil from freezing. It was a joy to get our hands dirty, the residual warmth of the soil counteracting the frigid air.

No plastic, just a double layer of fabric row cover over the tatsoi bed. The heads are usually upright in warmer weather. With the cold, they’ve become flat as dinner plates, hugging the ground in self protection. Though the tops appear viable, we were astonished to find their roots encased in a clump of frozen soil when pulled up. We left the last head in place to further test this hardy green’s tolerance.
Salad greens and Fordhook chard — Both seemed cold-damaged when harvested, and revived in washing. A few half rows of the more cold-tolerant salad greens and nubs of baby chard were left under cover.
Lacinato, and Siberian and Red Russian kales — All of the larger leaves harvested; the stalks and attached baby leaves left under cover in hopes for a spring crop of kale florets.
King Seig leeks — Half of crop harvested; the remaining left under cover, mulched and in-ground to keep this cold-tolerant variety.
Brilliant celeriac — The last of the remaining bulbs harvested for inside storage.
December harvest: Salad greens, chard, kales, tatsoi, leeks, carrots, celeriac.
Experiments: Salad greens, arugula, chard, kale, fun jen, puntarelle and pan di zucchero chicories, tatsoi.
In-ground storage: Leeks, carrots.
Waiting for spring: Garlic, parsnips.
We joined family for Christmas in Vermont this year.
Brisk walks and treacherous sledding were had in the newly fallen snow.
Many hands went into making pasta for Christmas Eve dinner.
Memories of Christmas past layered over the new.
Thanks, Kim, for gathering us all together and making it happen.