Waiting for the Garden

I'm trying diligently to follow some sage garden advice of my own, but there will soon come a time, I'm sure, when my desires intersect with the greater flow of Time through the Universe, and I'll step in, prematurely as usual. That advice, for gardeners of all ilks and manners, is to WAIT, just wait, for the Garden to tell you what to do.  It is a simple enough concept, but there are some depths to the wisdom, and in fact, the advice applies to our garden activities in two vastly different ways:

First, it is a way to tell myself that when the Kansas winds are howling, and the garden is changing rapidly from 55F highs (as yesterday) to 12F highs (predicted for 3 days from now), it is certainly not the time to get ahead on spring garden chores.  I have a number of things I'd like to be doing in the garden, of which a partial list might be:

1.  Dormant spray on the fruit trees.

2.  Replace the corner post of the electric fence around the vegetable garden.

3.  Prune the Ramblers and tie up the new canes.

4.  Trim off the ornamental grasses and move some of them.

5.  Set the foundation pole for the new Purple Martin house.

6.  Prune the grape vines and remove dead Blackberry canes.

I know that I could bundle up in 16 layers of clothes and do these chores now at 23F in a brisk north wind, risking that the cement around the post freezes before it cures.  Or, I could hold off and do them all in a single glorious late-February day when the thermometer touches 70F and the sun is shining. And they still won't be late. In reality, I'm sure my winter-starved soul will break down sometime in early February and I'll hustle out and scurry around with numbed fingers and chapped lips for a few afternoons.

The other, deeper, way to look at the advice of "waiting on the Garden to tell us what to do" is related to finding the best designs for our gardens.  Instead of feeling the need to do something grand this year and arbitrarily imposing your will upon the garden, maybe it would be best to wait and listen for your garden to tell you what it needs.  Does your garden need a new frame for a distant scene?  Do you hear it whispering that  there should be a water feature in the corner, there, by the tree?  Is the path from the door screaming for brick pavers because the old concrete walk is decaying looks out of place?  Gardens will tell you all this, and more, if you just listen to the whispers that come from the earth and the trees and the flowers. 

Of course, alternatively, you could just plant some hidden microphones around and then arrange for other gardeners to tour your garden.  The opinions of others might be harsher but may be clearer than the ramblings of a viburnum hedge.