Garden Dreams

In January, I dream of growing things.  I make long lists and draw up plans.  I dream of the taste of a fresh sun-warmed tomato.  In July, these dreams seem more like a possibility.

In February, I imagine the taste of raspberries picked right off the bush and popped in my mouth.  Jars of jam waiting to be made.  Raspberry sauce over vanilla icecream.  By the end of next week, this will be a reality.

In March, I start buying seeds.  Pole beans, nasturtiums, green onions, sunflowers, sugar sprint peas.  In July I can crunch on pea pods and admire the bright red flowers on the scarlet runner beans.

In April, I start hoping the last of the snow will disappear, and poke around in the garden beds for signs of life.  In July the delphiniums are taller than I am.

July makes everything seem possible.  All the hopes and dreams of the winter come into fruition.  When spring came, this little rosebush was so badly damaged by our cold winter, I thought it had died.  I cut it back hard, almost to the ground, said a prayer, and miraculously it made a remarkable comeback, and now is loaded with buds.  Even more than last year.  Gardens can teach you to never give up on a lost cause.