The foot of Blueberry Hill Road, about a mile from where I grew up |
Hmm...
That translates to pretty much nada, zip, zilch, goose eggs in my garden. The inadvertent Queen of the Underworld surely was fibbing a bit when she revealed she had eaten just six pomegranate seeds. I think in central Wisconsin we typically pick up the slack on that fib with 7, 8, or sometimes even 9 months of Winter.
Boxelders, ash, maples, and oaks covered in rime; English has as many words for ice and snow as any Inuit. |
plotting world garden domination. Heuchera retain their foliage, but if they are well placed, are under the foot of snow we received. Hopefully, that snow will provide good insulator material for the minus 15 degrees forecast for our next couple nights. That's without the windchill factor.
With the promised cold, this weekend I will hibernate. I will binge watch Netflix. I will hopefully decide what flowers I really have room to add to my garden (the eternal dilemma) and buy seed. I will organize papers for taxes, I will clean. I will start some sprouts.
Even given this burst of winter fury, our Winter has really only begun after the first week of January. If we see bare ground and balmy days by Spring Equinox, it will have been a short-lived sojourn with Haides for Persephone this year.
Hope y'all haven't worn out your seed catalogs yet. And perhaps pomegranates are not a good choice, just saying Persephone. Just saying...
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