Winter dreaming

There comes that point as the snow piles up when I engage in that timeless activity of hope: looking at seed catalogs and Pinterest for summer ideas. I really want to move, expand, fence and most importantly -- make my garden more accessible for my physical limitations. I also would like to keep small fowl for eggs and meat.

This is where being poor shows yet another disadvantage. The cost of supplies to rework my property to better suit my abilities and provide more for my family is frustratingly prohibitive. Ideas on the internet for fenced-in gardens with tall, raised garden beds abound, as do plans for chicken coops and quail houses. Unfortunately, even the "cheap" options aren't attainable when you are scraping by to pay bills.

Further frustration is found in my inability to be my husband's work partner. No longer do we split a job, team carry, or take turns doing a hard task. We no longer work together, and it feels so wrong to impose ideas of major renovations on him when I cannot help him carry through.

Sometimes the biggest heartbreak of my disintegrating knee is that I can't do my part. For 20 years I worked along side my husband in every chore that needed to be done. We've packed up all of our belongings and moved across states with no one else's help. We've taken turns with shoveling snow, raking leaves, stacking wood and mowing yards.  And now, we don't.  Now the work rests completely on his shoulders and I know its a lot for him to bear.  Being poorer only adds to this, as it takes more labor to accomplish what money can ease.

So as the sky turns white with snow again and I pace from window to window feeling trapped by the piles of snow, slush, ice and rivulets of water coursing down the roads, I'll continue to dream of spring and summer. Maybe in the clicking of websites I'll find the answers to how I can change my life.  More likely I'll just indulge in a fantasy to get me through the winter.