It’s snowing, again. Still.

I’ve decided to ignore it. Instead, I’m focusing on a talk that I’m giving at the Eastham Senior Center tomorrow morning. The topic will be, Give Me More Color!, and we’ll look at plants that deliver just that, be it through foliage or flowers.

The white stuff can fall outside but I’m in denial. It’s spring, damn it, and I’m looking at great plants, gardening and new beginnings.

It's beautiful, but enough already.

They call a spring snow “poor man’s fertilizer” because the flakes pick up nitrogen from the air as they fall, and then melting quickly, deposit that element into the soil. Thanks for trying to save me money, Mother Nature, but really…at this time of year I’d just as soon have warm weather. If my soil is a bit less fertile as a result, so be it.

I am so ready for the growing season. Ready to plant peas and lettuce, start seeds in the shed and succumb to impulse purchases at nurseries and on line. I want to be patient with those things that I have no control over, I really do. I strive to be serene in the face of timing, weather, and other people…but there are times when crankiness overrides my best intentions.

The pansies that I planted last week seemed indifferent to winter’s last licks. They are not harmed by the snowfall, and seem to be waiting patiently for an opportunity to grow. OK, pansies…what’s your secret?

I know that snow insulates plants, so these pansies may be better off covered with the white stuff when the temperatures fall. But really - how do they stay so cheerful looking in the face of such cold, raw weather?

I find myself doodling notes to Spring on my phone. Anyone have her email or phone number?

I’ve heard that the Norwegians have a saying: There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. As I put on fleece-lined rubber boots, a long down coat, a woolen scarf, hat and gloves and go out in the snow to walk The Dog, I thought of the wisdom of these words. I was comfortable, and actually enjoyed the snowstorm.

Wishing it was spring, or even not snowing, would be foolish. Preparing suitably for the existing conditions, even those that aren’t particularly pleasant, is much more intelligent.

In general, it’s far better to deal appropriately with what is instead of spending time and energy on what we wish were true, or what we think is right.

The birds deal with what is. They don't complain that it's snowing again (at least that we know of) or wish they were in Florida. They puff up their feathers and eat extra seed at my feeder.

The Dog feels like he's always well dressed for playing in his beloved snow.

We gardeners are all about transformation. We believe we can take a patch of weed-filled earth (let’s face it – there is seldom bare soil) or a boring lawn, and turn it into a foliage and flower-filled delight. My husband and I, for example, turned the ordinary turf entry to our house into a garden.

The weather transforms our landscape in all seasons, as it did at Poison Ivy Acres this morning. Early on everything was plastered with a coating of icy snow closely resembling cement. “I’ll blog about transformation,” I thought later as the skies cleared and the sun began to melt the coating.

Today gave me an opportunity to change my mind as surely as that snow changed the look of my garden shed. The guys that I’d counted on to plow my driveway didn’t show up. This after I called one of them yesterday, to check that their trucks were working and that I could count on them to help me out.

By one o’clock, with drive still not plowed, I decided to call. They claimed broken equipment, and said that they couldn’t come. All afternoon I complained in my mind. “I checked with John yesterday and he assured me you’d be here!” I thought. “You could have at least called me, so I could set something else up.”

I found a wonderful guy to plow the drive (Craigslist) and hired him for future snowplowing, so the situation was under control everywhere but in my mind. I fumed and protested all afternoon, having imaginary conversations with landscapers who didn’t show up.

Finally, just after five o’clock, I realized that some personal transformation was in order. Enough! I told my mind, and every time it started down that you-could-have-at-least-called-me road, I purposefully turned my thoughts to gratitude. Thank you for Jim who came to plow when I called. Thank you for the chance to see the garden and shed with new eyes. Thank you for the sunset that’s transforming the sky, and for my ability to watch it as I sit working in my warm house.

My mind is finally quiet.

We gardeners are all about transformation.

Yes, I dreaded the coming snow, but yes, I loved seeing what the storm did to the landscape.

Here's a reminder of how the front of our property looked three years ago.

This is the same area last summer. A transformation, wouldn't you say?

Thank you, thank you , thank you.

A snowstorm is predicted for tomorrow, with a total accumulation of 5 to 9 inches. Some forecasters say more, of course, because when they hype total snow amounts that means that people will keep watching or listening to their station. That’s the All-Fear News as Paul Gorman used to call it.

My response has not been fear, but denial. A snowstorm? No. It can’t happen. The sun is warmer, the days are getting longer, and I’ve just ordered my vegetable seeds. My daffodils are poking out of the ground, for God’s sakes, so how can it still be winter?

Clearly, I’m delusional. It’s only early February, and global warming or not, it’s still possible for snowstorms to roll in from now through March.

The larger issue here is the tendency, mine and may I assume yours, to resist what is. “It is what it is,” is an expression that’s in vogue, but it’s usually said with an air of sad resignation, not acceptance.  Or, dare I say it, peace. In fact, many popular sources say that this phrase means “Fuck it.” Period.

What makes us resist how things are, even when it’s all beyond our control? Is it possible to come to a place where we can tranquilly say, “It is what it is.”? I’m working on it, starting with tomorrow’s snowfall.

Part of me wants to celebrate every snowfall, but the larger portion says, "No. No more, I'm ready for spring."

One reason I love having a dog, is that dogs are always completely and totally present. When you’re putting down the bowl of chow, a dog doesn’t think about the time you forgot to feed him. When you go out, he’s not thinking about how long you’re staying out or where you’re going to go. A dog joyously eats his meal or follows you outside, and takes pleasure in being out in that moment.

Today, The Dog and I took a long walk around Poison Ivy Acres. I brought my camera and was taking photos as we made our way from the lakeside woodland up to the road. The Dog was looking for sticks and snow, but my eye was caught by signs of spring. The buds on the Stewardia were silver and swollen, and up near the road, daffodils were poking out of the ground.

As I focused on the season to come and relished every small indication that winter will soon be gone, The Dog was savoring what remained of the last snowfall. He found every small snow bank and rolled on it. He rubbed his face in the cold white stuff, and took as many bites of it as he could.

The joy that I felt at seeing precursors of spring was matched by The Dog’s delight in the remains of winter. We were both outdoors today, and fully present, taking pleasure in two different seasons.

Sometimes our ability to enjoy where we are is merely a matter of what we focus on.

The Dog finds a strip of snow and starts to roll...

he takes a bite and rubs his snoot in it...

and then lays on top of the snow, with ice in his whiskers. Bliss.

I, on the other hand, am looking at daffodil sprouts...

and Stewardia buds. Bliss.

More snow, off and on all day. It was the type of flurry that made me feel like I was in a snow globe and someone had just given it a good shake. Because we stay home and wait out such weather, winter can make us feel like we’re contained in a glass sphere and held close. This can be cozy and claustrophobic. Not to mention isolating.

It’s good to hunker down, sometimes, and gather ourselves inward. But the Snow Globe Effect can be dividing, and it reinforces our natural tendencies to be self-involved. I’m glad that winter doesn’t last twelve months a year, and equally grateful that this season reminds me that being active, getting out with other people and into different environments is a good thing. I recall that this is another reason to look forward to spring.

I don’t want to live in a snow globe, but it’s good to feel the snugness of home…and it’s also beneficial to shake things up now and then.

It snowed all day, and I still have a cold, so it seemed like a good day to write and bake cookies. I’m working on my new book, which has had the following working titles so far: Cultivating Life, Gardening Totally, The Ground Rules, and Growth.

This book has been transformed and reorganized twice, but a comment from someone in the publishing biz, along with an email from a reader of this blog, has led me back to my original vision plus some. The amazing thing is that what I’ve added clearly should have been included all along. It was so obvious, but I didn’t realize it until recently.

After writing for a while, I went down to mix up some cocoa butter pecan cookies that I often bake around the holidays. The recipe calls for cornstarch, and I spent about ten minutes combing the shelves for the round box I knew was there. Nothing.

I assembled all of the other ingredients (recipe below) and debated whether I should try to make them without the cornstarch. Going to the pantry one more time, I again looked from shelf to shelf. Just as I was ready to give up, I pushed a square box that was at eye level to one side, and found what I was looking for. I was searching for a round container, so I didn’t notice the box that was right before me.

Sometimes we’re looking for one thing so can’t see what we truly seek, even though it’s right in front of us the entire time.

Today's storm brought somewhere between 16 and 20 inches...

Cocoa Pecan Cookies

Cream: 1 pound of butter

Add: 2 cups powdered sugar and beat until fluffy.

In another bowl mix together:

3 cups flour

1/2 cup cocoa

½ cup cornstarch

1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Mix dry ingredients and 2 cups chopped pecans into the butter/sugar until just blended.

Break off hunks and roll into logs 1 inch in diameter.

Cover logs with waxed paper and chill in fridge for about 30 minutes. After logs are cold, cut cookies that are about ¼ inch think.

Bake in an oven heated to 325 degrees for about 20 minutes. If desired, sift powered sugar over the warm cookies when they are just out of the oven.

Dust the landscape with powdered sugar...

This morning I woke up and saw a slight coating of snow. Truthfully, my first reaction was to think, “This is nice; enough snow to change the landscape, but not enough to shovel.”

I love snow and how it transforms the garden and daily life, but my initial response was not wanting to be inconvenienced. Throughout the day I thought about this. Our culture encourages us to value effortlessness above everything else. Convenience stores, instant coffee, fast food, and commercials that promise easy-everything have lulled us into thinking that ease is all.

Perhaps the huge interest in low-maintenance gardening is really a desire not to be bothered by weeding or pruning. Those who want a quick, no-fail approach to insects or diseases (i.e. synthetic pesticides) are seeking not to be troubled by nature’s cycles.

Not to self: next time I wake up and wonder if the snow will: 1. Make me late to work, 2. Be deep enough to need shoveling, or 3. Change my plans and expectations; remember that life isn’t about convenience. Living concerns the entire experience: work, rest, upset, simplicity, effort, joy, and tragedy.  Oh yes… and ease.

A snowfall alters our perspectives. It changes the landscape into black and white, and highlights shapes.

This morning's snow has altered my personal landscape as well, reminding me not to judge things by how easy they are.

It’s snowing today and my husband isn’t home yet, but I’ve declared it an official snow day, and in celebration I’m ignoring the bills I told myself I would pay. Tomorrow.

That inner child was delighted this morning to see a Coyote exhibit disrespectful behavior. The Dog spotted the coyote walking toward our yard, and he went wild with barking. The coyote paused briefly, looked at the house, and then continued onto our property, turning down the path toward the lake. The Dog raced downstairs so he could continue to watch and bark, bark, bark.

Halfway down the path the coyote paused again and looked toward the house. Then he turned, still watching the window where the dog was barking, and slowly, deliberately pooped.

Coyote sending a clear message to The Dog!