Thoughts of spring seem strangely right when January’s more green than white

Winter, huh?

Sure, by the time you read this, we may have 3 feet of snow with temperatures hovering at 20 below. I mean, that would be January.

But as I write on this Saturday, Jan. 21, it is positively balmy. The thermometer was flirting with 50 degrees at about 1 p.m., and while there was a steady breeze, it certainly couldn’t be called cold.

I was more chilled in November.

With such lovely conditions, I decided to venture about the yard to take stock of damage from the big winds that have blown through and the ravages from the flood-inducing rainstorms that have plagued us south of The County.

Except for a thin layer of thawed soil – called mud in the spring – the ground was still frozen and scattered with ice puddles. It created an effect much like a layer of snow atop a sheet of ice.

At least I didn’t land on my face.

My first stop was to check on the banana bower for Banny and son. The leaves had settled, so I removed the evergreen branches, tromped over to my gardening shed to retrieve the last two bags of leaves and tromped back to dump them on the pile. It filled the enclosure to the rim again. I returned the branches atop the works, wondering all the while whether it will be enough to keep a cold-hardy banana plant alive.

I did a little cleanup along the dog’s run (and if I need to explain more, then you don’t have a dog) before wandering down a path into the woods to see how things had fared.

It wasn’t so bad. Bits and branches were scattered about with only a couple of small, well-on-their-way-to-rotten trunks felled.

After moving those hazards, I headed for the garden by my shed. It looked much as it did two months ago when I prepared the bed for winter, although the holly bushes are a sight to see this time of year with their glossy green leaves aglow in the brown-gray landscape.

The raised bed with the strawberries, raspberries, blueberries and lingonberries was as sorry as it was before we got snow. It was the only bed I failed to clean up before everything froze, but it should be short work in the spring (less than two months now, folks) to cut back the dead stuff and add compost to give everything a jump-start.

I pondered last spring’s new bed, which will be the home for several bushes now planted a few feet in front of it. Everything needs to move back, mostly so I can replant my asparagus in the free space left behind by the bushes. I wonder whether I could order those hazelnut bushes from the National Arbor Day Society and plant those as a sort of hedge along the tree line behind my shed and this new bed. The Arbor Day folks are doing a hazelnut study and requiring from participants a bit of annual paperwork, but it is all for a good cause. Plus, it would be a kick to harvest my own hazelnuts.

Actually the squirrels will probably harvest them for me, but a gardener must try, mustn’t she?

I circled around to the garlic bed and fretted only a little about whether the bulbs will survive this thaw-and-freeze cycle. I headed down the path to the front yard, only to stop and clean up a few armfuls of branches littering the lawn. It’s one last task in the spring.

That done, I walked up to look at the horse chestnut. Again I wondered if this wee twig would survive an inland winter. While it can be downright frigid on the coast, there is a difference in the air once you head inland. Just as I did last year at this time, I reminded myself that I can only wait until spring to find out whether the little leaf buds develop.

I straightened up to survey the area to see whether I could figure out a way to plant a couple of Asian pear trees I had seen in a catalog a few days before. They weren’t massive trees, just 15 feet tall at most, but it would mean I would need to clear a little bit of land that sports a fair amount of undergrowth in the summer. It is, however, rich soil, given the amount of leaves that have decomposed there over the years.

And I do so love Asian pears.

I walked back around the yard so I could sit down on the bench by the vegetable garden. For a while, I watched the swift-moving clouds and the play of light through the lowering skies. I contemplated the treetops as the wind twirled them from side to side. And I thought about coming inside to write.

Should I start waxing nostalgic on last year’s garden? Should I talk about the triumphs and the tragedies? Should I mention that I started working my way through the mound of seed catalogs that started to arrive on Nov. 15, a date much too early for thoughts of next year’s garden? Should I point out the terrific-looking garlic offered by Seeds of Change? Or that funky cucumber from Johnny’s Selected Seeds? Or that the Pinetree Garden Seeds catalog now looks like a magazine, but the fabulous content remains just as mouth-watering as ever?

Or could I just sit here for a few minutes more and listen to the birds chirping?

For, you see, seed catalogs look ever so much better when the snow is falling along with the temperature.

On days like today, it is best just to sit and be.

Janine Pineo’s e-mail address is jpineo@bangordailynews.net.