Winter Companions

Garlic and Onions. Yup. And Shallots.

“Oh, no. No. You didn’t eat them did you?” I had a distasteful vision of planting stock sizzling in butter.

She looked at me with a bit of puzzlement. “Well, not yet.”

“Good. Those are for planting.”

“Oh. That’s right. You told me you were going to bring me shallots.”

Then what on earth were you going to eat them for, I thought. I gave her the planting instructions for the organic goodies I had left her: red shallots and yellow shallots and three types of garlic, and hurried on my rounds. I stop and look at the school pond – too shallow for fish, but with a lot of nice irises and rushes. Students walk by and wonder what I’m doing. I smile.

Working at a school, I get many of the opportunities to exchange pleasantries that make Facebook seem like deep conversation. These sorts of thing are, I suspect, meant to reassure each other that we are ready to acknowledge each other’s existence. Most occasions, matching their ‘hello’ with my ‘how ya doin’?’ is sufficient. Other times, from opposite ends of a hall, we see each other coming and I’m sure they can see me thinking about how I’m going to entertain them as they walk by. Typically, their exchanges are focused on weather. And mine are too.

“Looks like winter’s almost here!” I’ll say, taking the initiative, as we close in.
“Yeah,” they take the bait, “don’t you hate it when it gets like this?” they try to agree as we pass.
“Nah… I love it!” I say half turned to disagree before they’re too far gone.

Late fall is not the best time for gardening, especially when the ground freezes. I need to plant kale next year, and leeks – both of which I understand to be very cold hardy. My Swiss Chard remains colorful and healthy after our killing freeze, and even the collards are hanging in there. They’re not long for the world, but the garlic, that’s a different story.

Garlic and shallots plant in the fall. Not unlike flower bulbs, tho not nearly so deep. It’s part of their life cycle, cold then cool, then hot. They start to grow in the fall, hunker down for the winter and greet spring with wiggly finger-like leaves. Ones that I hadn’t harvested over the summer have sprouted again, and may hold me over for the winter. I’m reluctant to till my shallot patch, because ya can’t really afford shallots, and they seem to keep growing back every year. It’s a good thing.

I do like the winter, almost as much as I like garlic. I think of my plants out there in the wind and the snow when a colleague complains. It’s all weather, I think, the weather. No, I don’t want floods or old folks to die in ice storms, but you never hear the shallots complain about a November flurry. I think of their green in the fall and their underground life in the winter and want tot tell people to take heart. Variety is the spice of life, and that counts for the weather as much as for the veggies.

www.extension.iastate.edu/Publications/PM1894.pdf