A Greens Flop

I had good intentions this past fall. Really. I scoured piles at the sides of roads for the perfect windows  to build cold frames with. We built them. Aren't they pretty? See the warm, solid walls around that happy baby bok choi? The very same bok choi I let down, ruined, froze anyway. Intentions are one thing. Laziness another. After a full spring and summer of hard gardening work I had no idea how complacent I would be to BUY my greens at the market. Something I have taken for granted all these years suddenly seemed like a treat. Oh, no roots attached? No bugs? Organic and I did not struggle for it? Oooh.

Something happens in the wee minutes of spring though. I long to be in the dirt. To push in the onion starts and pea seeds. I will go out every morning once I've planted them, probably in bare feet ,with a steaming cup of coffee , to check on their progress. I will do this for a long time, because they won't come up until the ground warms, but they like the initial shock of cold. My feet don't.




We will repurpose our cold frames for the summer. Create raised beds out of them, take the windows off (they are very nice windows, I want to preserve them!), fill them with soil and compost and grow  lettuces in them. Next fall I will be ready to put in our greens earlier, put the windows back on and have good intentions. Again.

Now we have a beautiful winter scape of a garden. The cold frames, which I left open too many below freezing evenings, are now humps of snow. Our deer netting came down in the last storm. I love how the snow covers up the mess of gardening things strewed around we we're to lazy to put away. 
There is definitely something akin to feeling like hibernating when fall comes, a laziness I just can't shake. A hunkering down to let everything rest. As long as the energy to spring clean is there after, because we've a lot of work to do.