“It is the thinness of a single pane of glass that protects the life in the greenhouse from the cold of winter. We would be wise to remember that so many of the things that protect us are just as fragile.

— Craig C. Lounsbrough, American Author of A View from the Front Porch

“Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse.”

— William Cowper, English poet and hymn writer (1931-1800)

Last week we hunkered down in front of the television, watching the storms headed our way. Our plans for the day had all been canceled as we readied for the coming weather. On two previous occasions the barn shed had been lifted from its foundation and moved three inches or so. Each time Sam used the tractor to pull the structure back to its foundation. He hammered concrete anchors into the base but the wind was stronger. As we scurried around the yard Sam hollered, “I’m cutting a window into the northeast side of the barn shed. That will allow the air to exit and all will be well.” In the meantime, I filled the interior stairway with blankets, pillows, and bicycle helmets. The kitchen counter had flashlights and an old radio brought in from the garage. I put fresh batteries in the radio and tested the reception. We were good to go. Sam later reminded me we do have radios on our smartphones. I’m not quite ready to totally depend on smartphones. The radio with a cassette player is 25 years old and works just fine.

As I looked out the window, trees swayed, leaves fluttered, limbs and sticks fell, while the sky darkened. I thought only the day before Sam went fishing, and I spent joyful time in the yard, the perennial garden, deadheading in the greenhouse and thinking about when we’d be putting the greenhouse plants outside. Poinsettias bloomed all winter and still look lovely. Last year’s geraniums have rosy red or pink blooms. I trimmed the bougainvillea and new leaves sprouted.

There’s rosemary, basil, oregano, parsley and mojito mint. The avocado tree is over five feet tall. It was grown from a grocery store avocado pit. It’s unlikely to produce fruit, but I like it and it makes me feel somewhat successful as a gardener. Another pit is producing a root and will be planted soon; at least a dozen never produced anything at all. Pineapple heads are abundant, also from the grocery store. I’ve been rewarded with two small baby pineapples which in our cold hardiness zone is rare.

Three pots of last year’s impatiens have bloomed all winter along with a pot of dianthus. There’s a number of vines, mostly pass-along plants from neighbors like Swedish ivy, pothos, philodendron, airplane plants, ornamental sweet potato, grandfather’s pipe, and wandering Jew often called silver inch plant. A sweet neighbor offered Sam a “naked lady bulb” but Sam said he didn’t think his wife would let him bring her home.

A Christmas amaryllis is just beginning to bloom. If it’s like other years it could have up to eight blooms. A camellia sits in a large pot just inside the greenhouse like the rest of us just waiting to get outdoors.

After the storms passed, we were blessed. All was well. The barn shed stayed in place. We sat in the stairway with our helmets on. No television reception, the internet went out, our phones were useless. The battery-operated radio/cassette player sat ever-ready on the kitchen counter and the greenhouse weathered well.

Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].