Read by Michael Flamel

If longer, warmer hours of Autumn are referred to as the “dog days of Summer,” then I call these current shorter Winter days my “catnap days of Winter.” I’ve found a way to extend, or at least like a cat, get the most from shorter, sunny Winter days.

A trip to Denmark years ago inspired this particular idea. Typical of many urban Danes, Summer days begin with a bike ride out of the city to tracts of land designated as community gardens. Small garden plots lie next to a tiny studio-like cottage. Here, the gardener can nap on a small cot, cook on a small gas burner, and drink chilled brew from a mini-fridge. This is their refuge from afternoon thunderstorms.

Spending the day weeding and watering, hoeing and harvesting, the garden-loving Danes adorn their gardens with borders of brightly colored lupines. Straw ground cover enables their famous jordbaer (strawberry) patches. Next to every garden plot and cottage-shed is a small 6’x6′ greenhouse. To maximize limited space, the ground under the greenhouse is dug out, and cinder-block steps go down to the heat-retaining brick floor, making these greenhouses “taller” with more space than had they been placed on mere flat ground. Mud shoes near the sliding plexiglass doors are a common scene. And in top-slit-plastic-bag-potting soil are tomatoes, growing like beanstalk vines that would impress Jack himself. Ample fruit grows from these plants, meeting baskets hanging above, draped in edible nasturtium color, bright and cheery.

Our current Winter cloud cover and snow-capped mountains, many over 14,000 feet above sea level, yield less-than-desired growing conditions. But precariously situated in our backyard, I’ve replicated this Danish greenhouse idea. True, I’ve no Winter tomatoes growing herein, but I do have a place of refuge from our sub-zero cold as heat-retaining brick on sunken floor allows me to peruse through new seed magazines. Life is rich here, abundant in this limited day heat. Nearby pots and baskets with fresh potting soil remind me that in a few short weeks I’ll be able to say, “Ready? Set? Plant!” On shelves where seedlings will soon germinate in seed trays rest plastic storage boxes with organized and labeled envelopes containing seeds garnered from last Summer’s garden. I’ve no cottage-shed nearby, but I do have an Amish-built artist studio replicating Henry David Thoreau’s small cabin on Walden Pond. From here I retrieve Prismacolor pencils and set to adding color to the fine illustrations found in back issues of GreenPrints magazine while listening online to various radio stations around the globe. While snow drifts outside along the base of my Danish greenhouse, a near-perfect calmness of Winter envelopes me, cocoon-like, awaiting Spring days ahead. Like an old moth that I’m beginning to resemble, I, too, will break free to hover between, beneath, over, and under growth and blossom in longer, warmer Summer days. ❖

About the Author: Chuck Rasmussen is an avid gardener and nature enthusiast based in Colorado. When he’s not tending to his backyard oasis or seeking inspiration from global gardens, he enjoys illustrating and finding solace in the simplicity of Winter days.