Today, while the city of Boston and Red Sox fans everywhere celebrate the Red Sox' winning of the World Series, I celebrate the joy of socks, as in things to wear on my feet. That's because there's a certain unmistakable smell the first time we use the heat in the house on that first chilly late-October morning each year, and today, when I woke up, I smelled it. I heard the gentle clanking of the furnace as it straightened its legs, cracked its knuckles and went to work. In the stifling heat of summer, there is no imagining that this day will ever come. And yet, it does. It won't be long until we have fires in the fireplace and soup on the stove, even though we're lucky if we get one snow day the entire winter (and one year we even got it because they thought it might snow).
I am colder in Atlanta than I ever was in New York (900 miles north of here), and I'll tell you why. Many folks in Atlanta never dress properly. We dash from the house to the car, perhaps throwing a light jacket in the back in case we need it. But we hardly ever wear the things. Gloves and hats and scarves make rare appearances. Socks seem to be completely optional. In fact, today may be my official first Sock Day, my black, beat-up sandals finally slunking into the closet for a sabbatical.
My friends in the garden are more cut and dry. They can't run and seek shelter. They wither and die instead, or just sit there and refuse to grow another inch until the first warming breezes of spring (which, here in Atlanta, come as early as February). And so, I got this cold frame last winter, which fits over one of my 3' x 5' beds just about perfectly. I 've had it over my rabbit-demolished lettuce bed for a few weeks now, with the sides rolled up so just netting covers the openings, and the little leaves are finally starting to grow again. But come early December, I'll roll the sides down just at night, for the sun still blazes many afternoons and makes you wish for short sleeves and sandals again, and I'll attempt to fill my salad bowl all winter.
If you are interested in learning how to extend your garden through the winter, check out Four Season Harvest: Organic Vegetables from Your Home Garden All Year Long. If Eliot Coleman can harvest from his garden in Maine in the dead of winter, there's hope for all of us. Well, maybe not our FoodShed Planet friend Annette in Alaska . . . (Annette, what do you think? Can it be done?)
Off I go, to try to find a pair of socks that match.
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2 comments:
Oh! Thanks for linking to the cold frame, I've been wanting one and it is on-sale right now. Cool.
As for socks, I wear them year round, I know I'm weird. I hate sandals, I think I have ugly feet and I hate showing them. I lived in Houston for 8 years and always wore socks there too.
As far as the weather and temperature are concerned, my little spot of Alaska is referred to as "the banana belt" by other Alaskans, and depending on where in the state he is, Coleman's Maine may well be colder a good deal of the time than here. But the thing that's most problematic here for winter gardening is the lack of light. I'm lucky enough here (south central) to have a bit of daylight each day, but so much of Alaska gets little or none, and for that matter, is far, far colder. I shiver just thinking of the tales I hear about places like Barrow, the North Slope, or Point Hope. I'm sure there are heating and lighting options that could be used, but I don't know how that compares, footprint-wise, to having stuff flown in.
I've only been her a couple of years, but I learned very quickly that Alaskan's are a resourceful lot, and if it's possible to have winter crops in -65F with no daylight at all, I'm sure someone's doing it!
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