Happy New Year and a Welcome to 2023

We witnessed a spectacular sunset on New Year’s Eve, as we rambled on the farm and took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather. The week before, on December 23, wind chills of -25 to -30 degrees below freezing thrust us back into the 19th century, as our pipes froze, and we spent a lot of time hauling water inside the house from our still-working farm pumps.

But by 6:30 pm on Christmas Day, the ice jam in our pipes was identified, thawed, and – Kentucky being Kentucky – the temperatures rebounded dramatically. On New Year’s Day, I put out 50 Spanish bluebells and around 25 daffodils – the stress of the autumn months having caused me to fall far behind on my planting schedule.

Although the sun hasn’t made an appearance since New Year’s Eve, I don’t find these gray and dreary days confining (although I do drink more tea). There is a beauty in the starkness and the bright flits of color provided by birds visiting the feeders. The outlines of my different garden beds are clear, and allow me to cogitate about changes or additions.

Spring in the garden is SO busy that I feel like I scarcely enjoy all the bounty of the natural world. I am usually too preoccupied with planting, dividing, and designing to fully appreciate the transformation from winter to spring. But, as I remind my children, one of the greatest pleasures in the world is the sight of the first trumpet daffodil lifting its face to the blue sky, and the feel of soft spring grass on bare feet.

So Happy New Year to all of you who take the time to read these posts and may 2023 bring you small, simple, and beautiful miracles – whether in the form of a flower, a sunrise, or simply the sound of the wind through the trees. Take time to drink it in and cherish the incredible miracle of being alive. I hope to share many stories this year, of historic buildings, landscapes, and people.