“If dandelions were hard to grow they’d be most welcome on any lawn.”
Andrew Mason
Stepping off the front porch, I saw the season’s first blooming dandelion. The bright, cheery yellow flower made me smile. It was much too early for blooming flowers, but it held the promise spring would come.
These are the kind of winters that I remember and enjoy. Six days of freezing weather, just enough to remind you it’s winter. We bundle up in warm coats with matching knitted scarfs and hats and drink mugs of hot chocolate while sitting beside the fireplace. Then the very next week climbs into the mid-60s and will feel absolutely balmy by comparison.
The day of the dandelion sighting I was on my way to the greenhouse to water and check plants. The blooming geranium was a bit nipped, being so close to the window. The bougainvillea was leafing out, airplane plants were sending out shoots and my pineapple plants were thriving. It seems I’m particularly good at growing pineapple plants. Perhaps because I cut the top off of the grocery store pineapple and plop it in a dirt-filled pot. I don’t even cover it.
Occasionally I water the center of the plant; it grows and grows. If I can keep the plant warm enough through winter it will grow for years, but I have yet had one grow to the size of producing pineapples. Still, I love the shape and arrangement of the leaves and the fact that I can grow it. One winter when we had prolonged single digit cold, I lost a number of plants but was most saddened by the loss of my pineapples. Right now, I have six in various stages of growth, with two being 2 to 3 feet in width. Of course, there is the fringe benefit of also being able to eat the store-bought pineapple.
Outside the greenhouse is what we call the perennial garden with the goldfish pond. For two nights the goldfish pond froze over. During the day I broke a hole in the ice for air. I scattered a small amount of fish food in the pond, knowing the fish were probably lethargic and wouldn’t eat. I’m a bit concerned as I have not seen them even as the temperatures warmed.
After the garden, I searched for the Pekin ducks. I didn’t feed them the night before and I felt a bit guilty, even though Sam said they would be fine without one night’s feeding. At the lake I saw two white lumps on the north side of the dam. I filled a cup with corn and walked halfway around the lake. I called out “pretty bird” to let them know I was coming. One duck raised her head and called back. I was still uncertain about the health of the other.
The ducks were nestled into the tall grass, nest-like, with heads turned 180 degrees and their orange bills tucked into their pristine white feathers. I emptied the corn into a pile and walked home, satisfied we had wintered well the freezing temperatures.
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