Just four days until Christmas.
I am not done with my shopping, and haven't even thought about wrapping, and have just a bit of baking/cooking to do. You might think that I would feel a little overwhelmed by all of this.
You would be wrong. The thing is, I have seeds on the brain.
More precisely, I have next year's garden on the brain. This is a phenomenon that usually sets in a week or so into January, when the dust of the holidays is long settled and that mid-winter funk starts to set in. The seed catalogues begin to arrive, and I spend hour after hour leafing through them, planning gardens and scheming about canning and freezing and preserving.
We will never have a big enough yard to fulfill these wild dreams of mine. (My dear husband should take some small comfort in this.)
I've been doing my best to stave off these cravings. After all, it's the holidays! I have a little girl who is VERY excited about Christmas, and Santa, and carrots for Rudolph! 'Tis the season! And while on the one hand I am not as overcome by the holidays as I have been in years past -- with the traditions and the merriment and the warm-fuzzy feelings -- on the other hand I am not as overcome by the holidays as I have been in years past -- with the rushing and the stressing and the why-didn't-I-start-this-in-October panic.
To me this feels like a year of transition, at least holiday-wise. This will be, to say the least, a Christmas like no other. The vestiges of the season spent so often with my parents have all but completely fallen away, and let me be quick to say: I'm alright with that. The traditions that are dearest aren't going anywhere. But still, it's all so different. A little freeing even.
Free to dream about seeds, and planning, and a summer spent working and playing in the garden with Sara; remembering how my father tended the plants and my mother put up the harvest, and then making our own way ahead. Maybe ultimately, that's really what I'm looking toward: time in the garden with Mom and Dad. A new season to celebrate with them.