The Garden on My Windowsill

Every year when the temperature drops, I attempt (usually unsuccessfully) to overwinter and propagate some plants. This year, herbs in a strawberry planter and begonia and coleus cuttings are growing by the light of the kitchen door and windows (I don't want to talk about the osteospermum and geraniums faltering in the upstairs window). Caring for these plants and encouraging them to grow is a far cry from being out in the sun and gardening in the backyard, but until the sunshine and warm temperatures return, my windowsill garden will have to do.

Herbs, begonias, and coleus in my windowsill garden.
Pancake plant is a bonus

While watering the other day and checking for signs of new life, it occurred to me that these small plants and cuttings are under a lot of pressure.They are growing in less than ideal conditions (probably not warm enough by the back door, and probably not enough light), and yet I expect a lot from them. They carry the legacy of last year's garden and the hope for next year's garden. That's a heavy load for a little plant.

New growth on a red begonia

As I thought about my own anticipation for spring and the hopes I placed into each of the small pots in kitchen, a poem came to mind.

The Garden on My Windowsill

The garden on my windowsill bears the burden

of my eclipsed summer spirit

restless in the cold grey of dark January days

Potted cuttings radiate warmth and colour

standing as sentries against the sudden slump

of my passion and my lifeblood 

Clippings rooted in still water

quench a constant thirst for spring

and absorb my daydreams of green

Of winding climbers that spiral toward blue skies

and creepers that hold the earth close

Of heirlooms that carry a history

and flower beds brimming and grandiose

Of birdbaths alive with splashing and song

and bees dancing above a rainbow of blooms

Of slow walks along brick herringbone paths

on barefoot days under the sun and the moon

The garden on my windowsill relieves the weight of winter

lifting me into the harmony of memories and visions

lighting the cold grey of dark January days

The bright lime green of a coleus cutting
brightens my windowsill

It won't be long before these plants can be transplanted back into the garden (provided I don't fail them before that).  

Happy Gardening!