Poor Will's Almanack for the final week of Early Winter.
In a warm winter morning not long ago, in soft rain, the grass outside my door was lush and bright, the last Osage leaves golden above the shed. Along the west wall of the house, wild onions were getting lanky, motherwort was bushy, one Queen Anne’s lace plant have grown back two-feet tall.
Inside the garden, fresh rosemary, thyme, oregano, fat chard were still good for picking. Strawberry leaves were turning red and orange. Dry pumpkin-brown heads of marigold quivered in the wind. By the pond, the lamb’s ear was still velvety grey, and there was blush on the wild geranium.
By the front door, dusky forsythia leaves still blocked the street from view Pink azalea leaves were forecasting their spring blossoms.
There was new chickweed under the rhododendrons, new clover, two new dandelion blossoms, ground ivy deep summer green. Under the apple tree, one wild strawberry flower. To one side of the woodpile, very late blue forget-me-nots.
Along the north hedge, orange euonymus berries were pushing out from their white pods. Butterfly bush and comfrey, dock, garlic mustard were all vigorous. Fat rose hips were surrounded by mint against the old stone wall.
And all will be well, they said to me. And all manner of things shall be well.
This is Bill Felker with Poor Will’s Almanack. I’ll be back again next week with notes for the first week of Deep Winter. In the meantime, be at peace as this old year comes to a close; in spite of all our differences, with our losses and our gains, we are of one fabric, and all manner of things shall be well.
