Designs and Dreams

The gardener is both the constant dreamer and the eternal optimist

In the mid-winter depths, the landscape is asleep and waiting for spring’s eventual emergence. The blue skies we love sit behind low clouds that are constant even on the milder days of winter. The holidays and celebrations are long past, and we can feel the depths of winter around us. The realities of a new year are laid before us as we settle into winter’s routines. The day-to-day becomes comforting and almost a little itchy, like our old wool sweater. Our garden shoes have gathered dust under the mudroom bench, and some dust bunnies have built their homes. 

Somewhere under the depths of the feet of snow that have fallen the last few weeks are the sleepy garlic bulbs and soil resting and building even as winter days become worn in as the track to the coop has become. I think about the gift of the layers of snow these days as if they aren’t promised, because it feels at times they are less so.  

As another snowstorm swirls out our windows and mid-winter arises, I light the fire and begin a new routine: my garden plans. I unroll a giant piece of paper. I have 1 acre to plan. I have my notes from the years and past designs laid before me. The base of the map is solid, but once again, I lay another transparent sheet over the design to take on what will change, be added, shift, change, and take into account more of what I have learned year over year, I inhale the truths the land gives me. One day, the exhales of the design will be evident, but for 5 years, I have learned and taken in only the information while trying to listen and tamper my vision being too loud over what these hills have to tell me about what will work best here.

I realized long ago that gardeners are dreamers. They are people who believe that one seed can feed them. The dead leaves will become nutrients, and all we need can be conjured from the land below our feet.

Being a human in the process of designing is an intense responsibility that involves humility, attention, and patience. We must wash away what we see in the world that “works” and realize the land we care for is the only thing that can ultimately lead to design. We can experiment and play, but any great designer knows that bringing something to life takes time and plenty of digesting of information for us to see positive and productive outcomes. In the world of gardening and land care, our life is dedicated to this work first and foremost.

As the snow piles up, I am suspended between dreaming and reminiscing about my past gardens and the shapes the land has taken over the years of caring for it. The ache for the days in the soil doesn't feel that much different than the ache of the cold in my bones after a long walk on a very cold afternoon: It is present, obvious, and cannot be ignored yet invigorating in some exciting way.