Big winter moon garden

The garden turns in its sleep during February. It’s the time when heat is pumped into cold greenhouses, readying them for propagation. Days are lengthening despite endless onslaught of snow and ice. More light is penetrating, enlivening lethargic houseplants. A new season begins with fresh aspirations for the nursery.

Fractals of ice pattern the window, as I watch the brisk activity at the bird feeders. A quick red squirrel forages in snow for spills, while winged traffic above is constant. I see the bright red crest of a pileated woodpecker while composting kitchen scraps, who is knocking holes into a rotting maple next to the garden. The cheerful music of its drumming beak is a welcome sound in the chilly quiet of the snowbound landscape. Owls are nesting, present at the birth of new light.

February is a month of purification. Temperatures dip to low extremes in nature’s internal cleansing ritual. The diseased and weak are shed, and space for healthier new growth emerges. Dead limbs add to leaf litter on the ground, offering a smorgasbord of nutrients to the snow’s blanket. In the ancient world, this was a time of spiritual renewal through blood sacrifice and rejoicing. They honored agrarian gods, in hope of a good harvest. In Mexico, seeds are still blessed, along with the Virgin Mary, on February second, Candlemas. Nature spirits are reclaimed, in concert with our own, as we see our way into the year ahead. The soil, heart of the garden, is enriched. The spirit of place is invoked as new harvest is birthed in imagination.

The whole of wilderness is represented by the oldest of Greek gods, Pan. The goat-hoofed sprite of the woods springs from the roots of fertility and playfulness. Stories of his amorous exploits abound, and speak of the inherent fecundity of nature. He hatched from the egg of a woodpecker, ruled Arcadia for eons guarding flocks, fields and beehives. His seed fertilizes the soil annually. He laughs and laughs, piping his reed flute, toning harmony into the Earth. Pan was demoted to a daemon, under the civilizing auspices of Zeus and the Olympians. Eventually, the god who lived on the earth with men was identified with Satan. Today, gardeners give the devil his due by planting extra seed, leaving a portion of ground for wild growth. This allows Pan room to dance, and wards away evil forces from gardens.

While the god dances, I’m anticipating growing crops that I haven’t tried yet. Galeux d’Eysines is a beautiful peach heirloom squash, maturing into a 10-pound flavorful fruit. Long of Naples is a deep green squash with sweet orange flesh, akin to a butternut, capable of growing to 25 pounds. I’ll plant tatsoi, an oriental, mild-flavored green, good in salads or stir-fry. I’ll start Five Color Silverbeet, a Swiss chard. Torch Mexican sunflowers will glow with flaming orange, long-lasting blooms. It’s fun to visualize designs for beds with a flourish of lively hues. Garden dreaming, our connection to nature is rekindled.

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