No sooner has the New Year arrived than thoughts about gardening come up like newly-sprouted seeds. Never mind how many times I told myself last summer as I got down daily on my hands and knees to Pull Weeds that I was going to cut back on the size of the Garden next season: the seed catalogues have arrived, and this old heart yearns for spring.

So, then why, when I look out the kitchen window, do I smile at the sight of snow starting to fall, with more to come every day this week? Because, on our morning walk, as we passed the front garden where I planted numerous rows of Garlic last fall, I heard them say, we’re cold. The garlic, I mean.

Okay, I know that’s a tad imaginative, maybe more. But, you know, as I approach four-score years of being on this precious little planet I feel like I’m entitled to some flights of fancy. Besides, if there’s one or two things I’ve learned, especially in recent years, anything is possible, both good, and not. But let’s say a prayer for ‘good,’ I say at the sacred touchstone, and move one.

The reason why I’m happy to see snow is because an extra layer of insulation is good for the wintering garlic. Yes, it’s winter-hardy, remarkably so, but there is a limit. I follow ‘the book’ on garlic when, after planting, I covered the rows with plenty of fresh, clean wheat straw. That straw is now largely exposed, amid the mid-December snow that mostly melted after more unseasonably mild weather. But the temperature fell fallen to -14 Celsius last night, and the sooner the garlic gets a fresh layer of snow-insulation, the better, if you ask me.

And then there’s also the expanded strawberry patch, with six rows of strawberry runner-plants transplanted last September. Some will say spring is better for transplanting; but over the years, I’ve had good luck with early fall. Strawberries also overwinter well, with the help of a good layer of straw insulation. Even so, I’ll be happy to see the snow come for their sake as well.

Those who love gardening will understand how one develops a personal relationship with plants, like pets or even family, in a way. I suppose it’s best described as a matter of faith: the idea that good feelings are expressed, and exchanged back and forth; and that is, to the extent it occurs, beneficial to the growth of a healthy garden. That and just the good, old routine of the gardener’s hard work.

This seems like a good place to say, I don’t and never will use herbicide, including and especially those containing the active ingredient Glyphosate, with the main one being the first, Monsanto’s Round-up, now used in vast quantities around the world in mainstream, commercial farming; to the extent it’s hard to buy food free of glyphosate residue. I daresay that’s one of the reasons why grow-your-own gardening is booming. Those of us who have the land to do that — preferably as far away as possible from areas of extensive, cash-crop farming because of the risk of glyphosate-spray drift — are indeed fortunate.

Yes, I hoe and pull weeds, hopefully before they go to seed; and thus, I kill plants. Some will compose and add organic matter to the soil. Some, like twitch grass, the farmer/gardeners’ worst nightmare, are better burned. But the whole idea of spraying chemicals on the field or the garden before planting or emergence, and thus leaving glyphosate in the soil; and especially spraying herbicide just before harvest to stop the plant from growing, called ‘staging,’ strikes me as utterly unnatural. How can that be good?

Anyway, after that bit of unexpected drumbeating, bon chance with the garden in 2022. And may the love be with you.