Spring in the Dead of Winter

The arrival of the spring Territorial Seed catalog is a big deal for me. It typically shows up a week or so after the winter solstice, when the days here in the Pacific Northwest are short, dark, damp and glum, bringing with it images of spring and summer bounty, lush foliage, bright flowers and the chance to interact with distant spring, getting your hands dirty right away by making lists, planning gardens and ordering seeds.

Psychologically this is an important activity, because although Territorial doesn’t ship spring orders until mid-March or so, actively thinking about what you’re going to be planting and setting things in motion by completing your seed order and getting it in the pipe brings spring closer, because you’re effectively working on the garden, even though the soil is still cracking cold and lumpy with frost heaving.

Now, the news today is reporting all the usual highlights: more rot and rattle about an incompetent terrorist setting his pants on fire and Obama’s posturing about security failures that allowed it to happen, U.S. unemployment is in the 10% range (if you believe those comically conservative numbers) and climbing, the housing market is circling the drain, more American personnel are dead in Afghanistan, Pakistan’s political situation is bad and getting worse and—this just in—Michael Jackson is apparently still dead.

But, from where I’m sitting I can see spring. And what I can see is rhubarb, which I’ve never planted before. There are three different kinds of shelling beans (Yin Yang, Bingo and Black Coco) that will line up against the back of the three new raised beds on the west side, along with the runners, Golden Sunshine and Sunset. I’m putting in some okra, which is gutsy in the short, cool summers of the PNW, but I’m going to have a go of it anyway. Last year’s three double-dug beds are getting carrots this year, lots of carrots, including Red Samurais, a new variety for me. I’m starting two different varieties of broccoli—Thompson, an open-pollinated variety, and Veronica, a funky broccoli/cauliflower hybrid that looks more like a 3D fractal than a vegetable. I’m putting in Brussels sprouts, because they’re actually quite tasty when fresh off the plant. I’m going to try a variety of basil called Pesto Perpetuo, because it has a cool columnar growing pattern and because it will apparently behave as a perennial in the PNW if you keep it in a container and bring it in during the winter. And to top it off, because I’m feeling especially frisky, I’m going to attempt bell peppers in containers against the east wall of the house, which reflects a lot of heat in the summer and just might make a decent little pepper-friendly microclimate.

The message is that Nature doesn’t really care about the details of human endeavor. The things that humanity has painstakingly constructed grow and crumble, fake money evaporates, as it can always be counted on to do, the careers of useless celebrities expand, explode and are ultimately forgotten. But while all that is going on, the days will still get warm in the spring, seed will still germinate, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get peppers.