Our garden is always at its best in mid-winter when I nestle by a cozy fire and linger over seed catalogs. I have yet to plant a single seed into the ground, which is now granite.
As of Page 3 in the catalog that arrived two days ago, I have visions of deep red tomatoes piled high in bushel baskets. Page 10 adds pole beans gracefully winding around beautiful trellis structures. Page 13 gives birth to green peppers so gorgeous they should be on display in art museums.
I swoon at phrases like “disease-resistant” and “drought-tolerant.” I read the words “you’ll never be satisfied with grocery store again” and pump my fist in the air.
The herbs in my imaginary garden cover rolling hills (never mind that the backyard is flat) with thyme, rosemary, lavender and oregano. Waves of basil reach for the sun.
I drool over seed catalogs the way other women drool over jewelry. “Could I see these seeds under a magnifier, please?”
“Look! It’s a 14 carrot!”
In hopes of maintaining some connection with reality, I propose that seed catalogs come with a black box warning. “CAUTION: Seed catalogs may produce wild dreams, grand delusions and unrealistic expectations.”
Comments are closed.