It's coming down hard out there, but I'm well stocked with provisions. Plenty of flour in the pantry, and plenty of green beans in the freezer. I've cans of tomatoes on the shelves, and braids of garlic hanging from the rafters. Let it snow. Let it pile up to my waist and let the drifts cover the vehicles and the outhouses. I'll survive.

My mind is in a far-away place, though my corporeal form is sitting at this desk, in two sweaters, watching the snow come down. Half-way around the world the sun shines on dry, coastal mountains, and there grow a myriad nasturtium species. Blossoms of every color, leaves of every shape. Growing gently on the hill-sides, waiting for butterflies. They fear not the frost, for the frost never comes.

I'll be growing a few more nasturtium varieties this year, including, if I can find seed, the elusive T. polyphylla. The collection grows and grows every year. Diversity is the cornerstone of organic farming.

I'm trying a few new tomatoes varieties, based on recommendations from friend, will be growing more turnips (believe it or not) because of customer requests, am giving up on an eggplant that sucks, and will by trying a new variety of cantaloupe, because the picture in the catalog was really cute. Thus we forge ahead.

I’m trellising the peas the way I always have, ditto the tomatoes. I’ll stake the peppers a bit differently, and plant the winter squash earlier. Live and learn.

It's the nasturtiums that I'm most happy about. I'm happy because I've got new colors. I've got a subtle refinement on what I've done in the past, one that makes me warmer.