Snowed In Gardener: Winter Envy

I am snowed in. It may not seem like a very encouraging start to a gardening rant, but that's the reality of a gardener in Canada. It's February, and two blizzards in four days dumped a combined 70 cm of snow. With 70 km/h winds blowing snow and making roads impossible to travel, my workplace closed for the day. It was closed last Thursday too, for the previous instalment of snow. The roads will not be much better tomorrow, but we will all have time to adjust and try to venture out, clear our driveways, get back into the world. My hands will be cold not from low temperatures, but from the stress of driving on black ice with limited visibility. Yes, we cannot stop living, and - if anything - the plants at work will not water themselves.

I've used that time well: I sorted the seeds I had collected last year, and went over the old ones to make a list of what I need to order; the order was placed. I signed up for a gardening class online, and planned the spring vacation that will include some wonderful gardens. I am attending to my houseplants and to nicely growing cuttings of coleus and geranium. I watch the snow melting in a bucket in lieu of rainwater - it makes my carnivorous plants happy. I count the flowers of orchids that - lucky for us - always put on the best show in February.

And I enviously scroll through pictures of other people's winter gardens. You know, those gardens that are not covered by banks of snow taller than me. I would love to have a nice winter garden and don't get me wrong: I try. I planted evergreens and tall grasses. I keep seedheads on echinacea and hydrangeas. I memorise the silhouettes of different trees against the snow.  But right now, the view from my back windows is slowly getting blocked by a snowbank that's growing taller and taller. This morning, it was up to my waist. Right now, in the afternoon, it's as tall as me. I can see that the tops of the tallest grasses in the distance are slowly disappearing under the snow. I feed birds a few times a day, but today, only the juncos made it. Where are the rest of the birds? I wonder how our snowshoe rabbit is doing. I wouldn't even mind him chomping on my blueberry bushes he seems to love so much.

This morning, I saw pictures of a garden in Norway with snowdrops and hellebores already in bloom, and it got me upset. The flowers were so lovely. I don't mind it if gardens in France are green at this time of year, but in Norway? Aren't they much further north than we are? Shouldn't they, at least, partake in winter misery?

I know I have no time to waste though. I need to start exercising to get back in form for the spring. Our spring is short, and all activity will be condensed into a few intense weekends if we are lucky and it doesn't rain. Or snow. I should still go over my tools and make sure they are razor-sharp. I can start transplanting the houseplants for which we are grateful during long winter months. Two weeks from now, I can start seeds. We usually say that in winter, gardeners rest, and it may be true, but my head is feverish with envy and energy for the new season.