It’s that wonderful time of year again, when vibrant green hues and earthy aromas indulge the senses and nature awakens from its cold monochromatic slumber. Or at least that’s what seems to be happening everywhere except Revelstoke. It was another snowy winter for us and, although the skiing was fantastic and although I’d probably still be praying for even more snow if we could still ski it, the downside to all that wintery goodness is that virtually everyone’s yard looks less like the Garden of Eden and more like the Plains of Hoth.
Mine is certainly no exception. I live in the legendary Big Eddy — the Monashee side of town where the snowpack is still thicker than a Snickers and a self-propelled snowblower will still get you down to the pub and back in style. So the first task in getting my garden started, after pulling on snow boots of course, is to dig out my raised beds and my bins of frozen potting soil.
I start with the raised beds since the vague humps in the snow give me some clues as to where to excavate. Down and down I go, through the stratums of February and January, and eventually to a garden surface that hasn’t seen the light of day since the last decade. As satisfying as it is to uncover this rich fertile soil — and find some forgotten hand tools along the way — my motivation to shovel snow wanes quickly and I resign myself to throwing down some black landscaping fabric and letting the sun do some work for me. Some may call that lazy but I call it a job well done. Or at least done. And when the fabric blows into a neighbor’s yard I’ll have a good excuse to go over for a chat.
Digging out the bins of potting soil, unfortunately, can’t really be put off — cool weather crops like broccoli and cauliflower need to be seeded now so they can finish before the heat of June. Planting these early season crops is just part of the seasonal rhythm of gardening and it’s certainly not new to me, so you’d think that I’d have enough foresight to store my potting soil someplace sheltered where I could easily access it come spring.
Nope. It’s under so much snow that I brought an avalanche probe to aid my search. I suppose I could claim that putting in some hard graft sets the tone for the season, but the truth is that by the time I finished putting the beds to bed last fall I just abandoned the rest and headed indoors for a hot chocolate.
So here I am, probing and digging the snowpack, and the snow from the roof that I shoveled on top, until I find my bins far below. They’re crushed and crumpled like an accordion, but I shrug it off because the soil inside is dry, unfrozen, and ready for planting. The bins rise from the trench like artifacts preserved by an ice age.
It’s a good start to the season. And now it’s time to see if there’s any hot chocolate left.
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