Everyone assumes nothing happens in a garden in winter. The plants are asleep, the soil is frozen, and even the birds seem to be on vacation. Everyone, that is… except my dog, Magdelin.
Magdelin firmly believed the garden still held treasures, specifically, invisible summer smells buried beneath the ground. She struts into the garden like an explorer on a mission.
Magdelin began digging with wild determination, sending icy chunks over her back like a malfunctioning snow blower. Her tail wagged so hard it practically powered the operation. Every few seconds, she’d stop, nose deep in the hole, clearly convinced she was seconds away from uncovering something very important. A bone? A vole?
Suddenly—success! Magdelin yanked her head out of the hole with a triumphant look… and a bone in her mouth she buried last summer.
This was no ordinary bone. It was last summer’s forgotten harvest, now preserved like a prehistoric artifact. Magdelin stared at it, confused. Undeterred, Magdelin picked it up and proudly went back to the house with her “prize,” but one step onto the path, she tripped and WHOOSH, she slid sideways like a furry hockey puck. The bone flew one way. The dog flew another.
She popped up immediately, looked around to make sure no one important had witnessed the disaster (just me), grabbed the bone, and casually walked off as if she had totally meant to do that.
To this day, Magdelin still checks the winter garden—just in case more frozen treasure is waiting. The plants may be sleeping… but apparently, the snacks never are.