Monday, January 23, 2012
This time three years ago I threatened to run pipes through the Vegetable Garden that would reduce irritability during those hours and hours of summer spent watering. It's a trenching operation some might perform in the Autumn days. The ground then is usually drier and still warm enough to feel. A mind can sense tilth, it can see a crumble in the earth, and it can look smugly across at the compost piles. And the body, usually at that time of a year, is still capable of lifting a shovel.
But something strange happens in the November, December months. It's as though Pixies from the north place needles in that part of mind that should be devoted to the tomorrow. From bitter experience I can tell you it is an error to think of these Pixies as lobbyists for the winter habits of Bears or Salamander. Better to think of them as representatives from gardens demanding independence from gardeners. Then, around now, the ground too is sulking. It's cold and it's wet, it's dazed by frosts, it clings to boots, and when it follows a person indoors it's a definite sign of forgiveness.