February is the month we really begin to dream the garden to life as the cool sunny days (and even some of the rainy ones too) have us out about, busying our hands here and there with this and that. It’s a welcome pleasure to employ our time in such a way for the remainder of winter.

This year I thought to create a roadmap of projects/tasks for the month which can be broken down by the week or the day. My children thrive with visual lists as this allows them to conceptualize the big picture of where each task will take us and see all the ways in which they may contribute. It also helps me to form an idea of what is imperative, and what can wait if we don’t get to it. Mind you, my “must do” lists are very lean so as to be attainable while sharing the work with four year olds and a baby. My list of “would like to do’s” may be a bit longer, but I hold each task loosely and with an understanding that if it is not done, it will be because something else was enjoyed in its stead. And because our plans our often at the leadership of my wild hearted girls, things may at times be joyfully done out of order.

In full transparency, it is not exactly “easy” to let the natural order of events come undone and to know that we ought to be at one place in our progress, and yet we are not. However, it seems that I have two choices; I can either tend the needs of the garden completely on my own in the company of the moon. Or I can invite the curiosity, wonder, and excitement of my sweet girls, loosen my expectations, and add to their amusement and confidence.

And so February came and went and I thought I’d share a bit of what it looked like for us. We began the month early on with our seed starting party with some of our very dearest friends. We drew diagrams of our garden plans and aspirations (one of the girls drew our whole family out in the garden as part of her plan, and I welled up on the spot because those things touch my heart so deeply). We ordered our seeds and celebrated the day they came because Halden Gardens seed packets are a work of art in themselves. We started some seeds in pressed paper pots and some in egg shells. We did a bit of clearing the remains of last years crop and this year’s fresh weeds—but we left plenty to keep us busy the whole month of March (seeing as we do not pull out spent flowers at the end of the season because we really delight in watching the birds come to our garden to feast on the left over seeds through the winter + those feathered friends are just the most splendid little gardeners themselves, as they often drop seeds along their way and leave us with unexpected surprises that come up in spring). And we ended the month sending our saved seeds by post to friends old and new, near and far, and have officially named our exchange The Little Seed Keepers Society (more on that in an upcoming entry). The weather was mostly accommodating and even hinted at spring many a day. It was a very lovely month and we have finished it feeling very excited for what is to come as the days of March unfold.

The other day, I began reading aloud from Little Gardens for Boys and Girls, and after the first couple paragraphs Jane and Lucy asked, “Mama, did you write this book?”. To which I blushed and replied that I did not, but it does sound very much like something I would write. This may not come as much of a surprise considering the original publication date was 1910 and I have been accused a time or two of being at least 100+ years old at heart. But the real point of me sharing this little narrative is because following their inquiry they both proceeded to tell me about the garden books they will write for me when they grow up. And as I listened to their hearts pouring out stories of thanks to their Mama and the beautiful garden she helped them grow, I could not have wished away one bit of the “inconvenience” of gardening with my children.

The truth of the matter is, it takes a tremendous amount of effort, patience, flexibility, and a willingness to answer 389,573 questions (a day), and that same figure is now matched by the baby, but instead of verbal questions, it is inquiries of every pebble, stone, leaf, or slug she can get her tiny fingers on. In reality, I spend a little bit of time tending the garden, and a lot of time pulling wagons and giving wheel barrow rides, looking up to see “the biggest weed ever” that was proudly plucked, putting small gloves back on hands for the 83rd time, and cleaning out mouthfuls of dirt from investigations gone awry . It’s almost dizzying at times, but in a tender and gratifying kind of way. To convey how deeply I value the opportunity to shepherd these little souls to be acquainted with the gifts of the earth, I really would have to write a book. And it would be my book of thanks to them. It really is worth every bit of effort, I promise. Even when I’m frazzled, I still promise.

There is a kind of magic that happens when I abandon my expectation and let the children take some ownership in the processes, and that is that I myself become awakened to the gifts that had been long left behind with the bygone years of childhood. Children will slow you down. The to-do boxes will not all get checked. One day’s tasks will stretch and stretch until it takes nearly a week to accomplish. We had one of those weeks in February and it looks a bit like this: Saturday we moved all of our saved egg shells from the cartons to the crate and into the the cold frame box. Sunday, we poked holes in the bottom of all the egg shells and filled them with soil. Monday the girls selected Stock, Strawflower, Rudbeckia, Sweet Peas, and Marigolds (out of our “start in February” stack) and wrote out their little popsicle stick markers. And on Tuesday little seeds were finally tucked into their egg shell beds and placed safely back in our cold frame box.

If you’re a little bit out of breath just reading how long that took to get a few seeds started, I understand. The whole task from start to finish would not have taken me more than two hours. But had I done it on my own, my children would have very little connection with the flowers, the names, the colors, the spelling, the shape of the seeds, the excitement of checking for little green sprouts each day, the thrill of watching our winged friends pollinate the booms, the aptitude to care for the plants in every stage, the gratification of gathering a bouquet, or the joy of harvesting seeds for a new spring to come. Because of all of this, I have become joyfully content with “falling behind schedule” in order that the garden be met with more fondness by all. And come August, not a soul would ever know that we did not have all our intended seeds started before the end of February.

In all of my observations, I have determined that perhaps children move slower because they are apt to engage all of their senses into each experience. While they are busy at work, they are gathering knowledge, forming memories, acquiring skills, and exploring curiosities. Children are not troubled with check lists, they are finding enjoyment in the process which leads them to new discoveries. There are little things here and there I will do my diligence to teach them about the ways of the garden, but none of my words will ever out influence the miracles of observation. This is a lesson I have learned even for myself as the flower is not in a hurry to bloom, and neither should I be to make it. If only I will sit by and observe I would know that it is not only the bloom that is magnificent, but every bit of the growth that take place to get there, and even the dropping petals give way to one last miracle before the flower has bid farewell.

I really think it’s just the most splendid gift I’ve ever encountered…my children teaching me to know the wonders of the garden, and the garden teaching me to see the wonders of childhood. Never again shall I wish to rush another bloom, for either the flowers or the dear children.

In addition to keeping things attainable, I also take great care to employ a spirit of resourcefulness. Many of my favorite aspects in our gardening have come from using what was already available around the property or in our tiny home. Over the past three years we have repurposed all the stones that we dug out from under the ivy where our garden now grows (the former floor of a long ago blacksmith shop) and laid them as a walk way taking us from our front steps and leading us between the two gardens. We used the bricks that were removed from the patio to lay a path alongside the sweet peas (which much to my dismay has since been removed, but it was a tremendous labor and I took great delight in it, so I find it worth mentioning) . The Farmers Market stand my husband built for the girls was made from scrap lumber that had once been a garden shed, left to fall to its ruin. The stump stools under the tunnel are collected from the trees my Father in Law cut down. Buffo the toad, was rescued from a pile of rubble and has since become the watchman over the gardens.

As for annual traditions, we use egg shells gifted to us by our happy hens, or recycled paper from packages, which both make for environmental and kid friendly seed starting options. Further we love to spoil our winged friends with some orange peel and peanut butter pine cone bird feeders filled with the sunflower seeds that were harvested and saved for such an occasion. It is after all, one of the delights of February— the Chickadee’s dance and the Robins declare; Arise, arise, spring will soon be here.

Even this process, designing the layout of the garden and using resources we have available to us is a slower process. But each slow step is filled with intention and for me it connects the history of what once was, with what is now, and the joy of knowing how much more we will leave behind us when it is our time to go.

I think perhaps the real groundwork that we lay in February does not have half so much to do with the soil and seeds, as it does with preparing our hearts to stay attune to the goodness of slow work.

I will wrap this up here, for fear I could go on and on and never really be done. But I do look forward to sharing more just as soon as I am able. For I’d really love to share some of our favorite garden related books, handmade seed envelopes + a template, and more about The Little Seed Keepers Society and my dreams to share it with anyone who would delight in it. And of course, all the many wonderful gifts that March will bring. How lovely it will be to share those too.

As always, if you have questions or just want to leave a kind word, please do so in the comments or reach out to me by email~ or if you are of the type who would prefer to write a letter, I’d be the happiest recipient in all the world, and I’d promise to write you back. It is always my hope that you may find a kindred connection in my words and pictures, so that in all the joy and challenges you will know that we are all in them together.

Happiest Gardening, dear ones.

A final note in support of the small shops we are deeply grateful to partner with and support; a list and links for your convenience.

*Many of the girls wardrobe stapes can be found at Luralu— who is very generously offering readers of Ivy & Tweed a 20% discount using the code IVYANDTWEEDBLOG

* Our favorite Merino Wool base layers (which also pair perfectly under Luralu linen dresses are from our dear friends Chasing Windmills Kids

* Seed packets, vintage botanical prints, and botanical stationary from our friends Halden Gardens

* Little leather shoes, socks and tights from Adeliesa

* Knit pixie bonnets from our dearest friend @mama_endo

* Framed Art in the Playhouse from Lore´ Pemberton

* Paper Pot Presses and children’s garden tools from Mouse in the House

* Additional wardrobe staples featured from our friends The Simple Folk

* Seed Packet stamp from Cedar and Grey Paper Co— who is also very generously offering 20% off to readers with the code IVYANDTWEED20

* Rain pants from Fairechild

* Head scarf and botanical stickers from the loveliest little shop around, Adored Vintage

Seed to Seed: February Groundwork