A Hat for All Seasons

The calendar says one thing; my bones say another.  It’s long past time to get the garden started but…  it’s too cold, too wet, too damned unpleasant outside.  I’m having the usual argument with myself: am I using the weather as a reason or an excuse?

And besides that, I’m having a little bit of growing envy.  Carol and Tucker put up a small greenhouse in their backyard and already they have all sorts of ‘starts’ – tomatoes and I can’t remember what else.  To be honest, my hearing turned off without my permission when Carol was describing the growing progress; I went into some sort of hothouse reverie that had more to do with personal warmth than plant growth.

I’ve taken to asking other people that “Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary” question: how does your garden grow?  Nahcotta neighbor Ann Gaddy, who I consider the Queen of Nasturtiums, told me (with a bit of a shudder) that she hadn’t been outside yet.  “Too cold.  Too wet.”    We commiserated and agreed.

Satellite Image of Rain Plume – from Cliff Mass Blog

But when?  Dr. Clifford Mass, Professor of Atmospheric Sciences at the University of Washington wrote in his blog yesterday about the “Pacific Mega Moisture Plume” approaching our coast.  “It is the JAWS of Pacific moisture plumes,” he said.  “…  a continuous band of clouds, 1000 miles wide, stretching from the western Pacific to just off our coast. Scary.”

Scary, indeed.  Even scarier is the new administration’s head-in-the-sand (make that mud) insistence that there isn’t a climate change problem.  But then, when you are a billionaire and don’t consider growing your own vegetables or even your own flowers, what the weather does is probably not a much of a problem garden-wise.  How many gardeners does it take to tend the White House rose garden, anyway, you might ask.  Right up there with how many Federal Judges to stop an immigration ban, perhaps.

Gardening in the Rain

Unfortunately, our weather can’t be adjudicated.  Just like my garden won’t get started on its own.  Time to pull on my boots and don slicker and sou’wester and get to work.  Oh. And my winter long-johns, too.