Saturday, February 21, 2009

Winter in Another Place





Like just about every other gardener in the northern hemisphere I am officially tired of winter. Every year in October, I bring in my tropicals and disperse them around the house in somewhat-suitable places, lecturing them as I go about how lucky they are not to be left outside. I settle in for the winter, the first part of which goes quickly with the holiday planning and festivities, and enjoy the snugness of the house, the warmth of the fire, and the cosiness of snuggling under a floofy eiderdown. January brings the catalogues, and I greedily pile them by my chair, spending whole days engrossed in my selections. There's winter cooking too -- lamb shanks and lentils, thick soups with cornbread or pumpernickel, beef stews or hearty casseroles, and oranges and cabbages and sweet potatoes and tangerines smelling of exotic lands and spices from the Orient whose scents seem more sharp and pungent in the chilled air.

Now in February I am anxiously patrolling the garden, hunting for small signs that life will return, that we are not yet condemned to eternal winter, that the sun will warm us again, the hummingbirds will return, and there will be greenness and flowers. I am reminded of another winter a long time ago when we lived in Moscow. It was a very hard winter that year in Europe--not unlike this one, actually -- and Moscow suffered along with everyone else. There were huge snowbanks everywhere, enormous icicles hung down outside my seventh floor windows, great winds scoured the streets clean of snow at night, leaving it drifted against the buildings and blocking the entrances with 6 foot drifts. There were no signs of greenness anywhere and although the city was beautiful in the snow, it was a stark beauty. I was enchanted though by the magic of the Russian winter, I had my sister-in-law's old fur coat (she had moved to California) and a good pair of boots, and I wandered the city taking it all in.

A few photographs from that winter -- I wish there were more but many of my slides have disappeared themselves without my knowledge. One is of the little lake at the convent of Novodevichy, with the little house for the waterfowl which lived there; another is an old wooden house in a back street in Moscow, and the third is an old (and unidentified) church, again in Moscow. The third was taken on a day when we went for a troika ride in Izmailovsky Park and met small Natasha, dressed for the cold, the next is a wooden church on a windswept plain outside Moscow -- Kharkov area, I think, and the last is more pleasant -- a little pond in a little village in the outskirts of Moscow.






PS -- I see that Blogspot has decided where to place my photos. Oh well.

8 comments:

Heather said...

Rosella, you pictures are beautiful. I live in Idaho and know what you mean about trying to find signs of life in the garden. Mine is still covered in snow. No fear though, mud season is coming.
-Heather

Pelageya said...

Hi Rosella! I opened your blog and from the very first picture realized that it was Russia. When did you live there? I studied in Moscow in 1975-1982. Your writing is very interesting. I enjoyed reading this post and will be back to check others. Thanks!

. said...

Such a nice post, if a little chilly :-)
I compliment you on your writing.

We have lift off: fieldfuls of snowdrops and tubs of blue iris. Now I could do a bloomday post.
jo.

Jan said...

Rosella, you certainly have lived all over. My sister lives in Northern Virginia, and she, too, is tired of winter. This March she will be coming south for a visit and is hoping to enjoy our warm weather. I'll tell her to bring some back to you. LOL


Jan
Always Growing

Liisa said...

Rosella,
One begins to wonder if spring is ever going to get here ;)
It's going to be a little while longer, we are going to get about a foot of snow today and tonight.
I really enjoyed your photos!

jodi (bloomingwriter) said...

What a great glimpse into winter in another place, Rosella. Thanks for your visit and comment--you officially win at having the absolute best name for a feline furbucket friend, too.

. said...

Yes, I noticed that about the picture placement too.
All of a sudden surrounded by text without my say-so.
Lots of
in my html solves it, but it is an extra chore.
(word ver: 'scippelu')
jo

Jan (Thanks For 2 Day) said...

Hi Rosella, just stopping by and since I'm here I thought it would be sad not to leave a message;0 In fact, I really thought I had left a message on this particular post last week! Maybe you haven't published it yet...or, I could be mistaken:( I enjoyed your photos!