I had just battened down an old tarp to cover some garden equipment, when Grandmother shook her white quilt of winter snow over the foothills. The quilt of winter gently covered the prairie cone flowers, the iris blades, and the dried remnants of marigolds.

     Out came a Radio Flyer sled, forty plus years old, one that my older brother used many moons ago. I remember I took a few laughing tumbles off it as a small child down the quick slope.

     Tucked away are the trusty hand tools that helped dig up quite a few thistles and lamb quarters. My shovels and rakes, though, could use some replacing; maybe Santa will come to the rescue.

     Out came the holiday decorations, holly and evergreen boughs, red cranberry bead garlands, and pine cones brought back from fondly remembered hikes in the High Sierra mountains. Things that help us remember the hope of a new dawn to come, and bringers of family gatherings singing wassail songs.

     Tucked into our bellies are the squash, onions, and carrots of long toiling hours of summer and fall. Also dried apple rings, sharp with remembered flavor.

     Out came the merry shapes of cookie cutters, ready to create platoons of gingerbread men, stars, and jingle bells. Many hours of baking go into baskets of sweet gifts to our honored friends and family.

     Tucked into snugly slippers are my feet, as I sit in my rocking chair, flipping through many colorful pages, claiming the best of the best seeds; seeds of promise, seeds of healthy living, seeds of beauty to come this spring.

     Out came the birdseeds and suet feeders to fill hungry tummies of our fine-feathered friends. They who helped rid garden beds of voracious caterpillars and potato beetles, too.

     During the longest night of the year, I lie awake in bed under my own downy quilt. I tell myself to be patient, to remember that, even though it is very still and death-like outside under Grandmother's quilt of winter, spring will come, bringing warmth upon our skin, and a dazzling show of color, eye candy to any gardener with enthusiasm.

     By Aspen Marks