Physical gardening records & the first signs of spring

Hello dear readers,

I write to you from my kitchen desk, where I look out on sun-drenched cedars, a cool breeze blowing through the open window. The past week has been unseasonably warm¹, and I’ve spent much of it pining for real spring, not this false one that gets my hopes up. But if it’s not going to be winter this year², then I think it should just get on with it and fully make the change.

What I loved most about this week was that I managed to get some gardening done, even if only in a small way. Last Thursday it was fifteen degrees, and so I spent my afternoon outdoors, moving Siberian wallflower—which had multiplied more than we’d thought—into the back garden bed, which has a lot more space after last autumn’s flower move³.

On the topic of the back bed: while scrolling pinterest, I saw a photo of nasturtiums climbing up a patio. I told my mom about it, and she mentioned it was probably a specific kind of nasturtium. So, imagine my surprise when I stop by the seeds while waiting for a can of house paint to be mixed, and found packets of climbing nasturtiums. I can’t plant them for at least a month—likely more—but you know I’ll be doing it the first chance I get.

Saturday, though, was cold and wet, and I spent it indoors at my grandparents’ house, foraging for buttons in my grandma’s sewing room and drinking far more coffee than necessary. But I shelled some dried hollyhock heads, too, dividing them between envelopes so both my grandma and I will have an abundance of seeds. Mine will, for the most part, be spread through the back field, an idea that came to me in December and hasn’t left since.

My niece and I braved the rain at one point, heading out into the farm’s fields to search for the crocuses grandpa saw just the day before. We found a number of clumps along the side field, just at the edge of the ravine, tiny jewels of mauve blooming against the grass. We also saw snowberries, new buds on a number of unidentified shrubs, and a hole in a tree where a bear⁴ scratched its mark.

One thing that I need to do—which I have absolutely no desire to do—is weed the vegetable beds out back. There are so many things I’d rather be doing, including but not limited to lying in the sun, reading my book, and baking loaves of seed bread. And so I keep putting weeding off; maybe, if I leave it long enough, the weeds will be larger, and therefore easier to pull from the dirt. At least I keep telling myself this.

Finally, what I’m most excited about: I’ve decided to start an annual physical garden record. This idea comes from a garden record rescued from my other grandparents’ house⁵, and from my buying a number of tiny craft paper notebooks last year, unsure of their use at the time. But now I know—they’ll serve as my records until they run out⁶.

That’s all for today—I’m off to read in the sun for a couple hours. I hope your week is going well, and that winter isn’t too bad for you, wherever you are.

—Catherine

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FOOTNOTES

¹ One day it was sixteen degrees. For context, it’s usually anywhere from 0-5 degrees this time of year, and quite wet. It has definitely not been that.

² It hasn’t snowed—not once! I do dream of living in California, but this isn’t what I want. I live in the Pacific Northwest! It’s supposed to be gloomy!

³ Last October, my mom and I moved a number of plants—delphinium, lupin, and echinacea—that had grown much to large for their current beds. They’ve now got space to stretch out in their new home, just on the other side of the garden.

⁴ At least, I think it’s a bear. I can’t imagine what else would scratch such a deep hole so high up on the tree.

⁵ My mom’s parents once lived in a lovely little house just down the road from us. Sadly, they’re long gone, and the house looks like it might go soon too. The garden record that my aunt rescued was from 1942—long before my grandparents lived there. There’s no name in the book, so we have no idea who kept it. But it’s nice to have a little piece of history, especially one that’s inspired me to do the same as they’ve done.

⁶ There are twenty in total. I knew when I bought them that they would serve some purpose, I just didn’t know what that was at the time. Now I do!

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, you may also be interested in my other online archival endeavors:

—instagram

—substack

—youtube

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