Summer Garden in the Snow - New Project

February in Wasilla is still winter’s boss level. But Grandpa Malcuit had an idea.

He stomped up to the house in his boots, snow up to his knees. “Emergency meeting of the Lovely crew!” he called through the door. “Bring shovels, hope, and that green thumb Harbor got for Christmas.”

Mom — Brandy — opened the door. “Dad, it’s -12°. What are you plotting?”

Grandpa winked. “Summer. In the snow.”

Five minutes later the whole crew was bundled up behind the motorhome. Nation, 15, with a notebook. Ocean, 12, with a thermometer. Harbor, 10, with seed packets and actual dirt from Mom’s grow lights. Bitty, 6, dark brown ponytail, fair skin, with Freckles the stuffed dog in her coat. Dassah, 4, dark brown curls, with a watering can full of snow.

Dad leaned on his shovel. “Alright, my little lovely ladies. What’s the mission?”

“We,” Grandpa said, pointing at a patch of ground next to the U.S.S. Grandpa, “are building a Summer Garden. In. The. Snow.”

Harbor gasped. “Like the Timmy-Tomanlians built in the Asteroid Belt?”

Nation nodded. “Legend says the Timmy-Tomanlians once grew a beautiful bucket of tomatoes on a comet. Took them 300 years, but they did it.”

Bitty’s eyes got big. “Whoa. The Timmy-Tomanlians are good at growing stuff?”

“The best,” Ocean said. “Almost as good as they are at chicken. Remember the 1000-Year War?”

Dassah frowned. “Bromanlians said they stink.”

“But they were wrong sometimes,” Bitty said fast. “Remember? Sometimes Bromanlians stink and Timmy-Tomanlians can be the man. And sometimes Timmy-Tomanlians make chicken that’s not the best. Everybody gets a turn.”

Mom smiled and Dad and they both smiled at their little lovelies. “That’s right. Even ancient aliens learn Lovely Law #1.”

“Love others as yourself,” all five kids said together. Rowdy barked.

Operation Hot Dirt

Grandpa’s plan had four parts:

1. The Greenhouse
Nation and Ocean built a frame from old PVC pipe and wrapped it in plastic Mom donated. “It’s like a blanket for plants,” Ocean explained to Dassah. “Keeps them warm. Like Bitty keeps you warm.”

Dassah beamed. “Bitty is a greenhouse!”

2. The Heat
Grandpa ran a safe cord from the motorhome to a little space heater. “This is our summer sun,” he said. “Don’t touch. Unless you’re a tomato. Tomatoes love it.”

3. The Dirt
Harbor dumped Mom’s warm seed-starting soil into trays. “This dirt’s been under grow lights since December. It thinks it’s July.”

4. The Hope
Bitty planted the first seed. A cherry tomato. She patted the dirt, then tucked Freckles in next to the tray. “Freckles, you’re on guard duty. No snow snakes allowed.”

Dassah “watered” everything with snow. “Snow is just summer water that’s cold!”

The Waiting War

Then came the hard part: waiting.

Every morning, the crew trudged through the snow to check the U.S.S. Grandpa Garden. Day 1: dirt. Day 2: dirt. Day 3: dirt.

Dassah crossed her arms. “This is longer than the 1000-Year War.”

Bitty sighed. “Maybe the Timmy-Tomanlians were right. Maybe only they can grow stuff.”

Grandpa knelt down, his knees cracking like the Bromanlians’ battle drums. “You know what the Timmy-Tomanlians learned after that war? And what the Bromanlians learned too?”

“What?” Harbor asked.

“That sometimes you’re not the man,” Grandpa said. “Sometimes your chicken isn’t the best. Sometimes your seed doesn’t sprout on day 3. But you keep showing up anyway. You water it. You keep it warm. You love it as yourself.”

Dad came out with two mugs of cocoa. He handed one to Bitty, one to Dassah. “My little lovely ladies. Patience is part of the Lovely Law. You don’t quit on people. Or tomatoes.”

First Green

Day 10.

Bitty ran into the house before breakfast, snow boots still on. “MOM! DAD! GRANDPA! NATION! OCEAN! HARBOR! DASSAH!”

The whole family met her at the door.

“It’s green!” she shouted. “There’s a little green thing! Freckles found it!”

They all stampeded to the motorhome. Inside the plastic greenhouse, under the little heater, was one tiny, brave, green sprout.

Dassah dropped to her knees. “Hi, little tomato. I Dassah. I keep you warm.”

Harbor teared up. “The Timmy-Tomanlians would be proud.”

Ocean took a picture. “For science.”

Nation just nodded. “Told you. Physics.”

Grandpa put his arm around Bitty and Dassah. “Look at that. Summer in the snow. Made by my little lovelies.”

Mom wiped her eyes. “You two… you never gave up on it.”

Bitty hugged Dassah tight. “That’s what sisters do. That’s what family does. Even Bromanlians and Timmy-Tomanlians figured it out eventually.”

Dad kissed both their dark brown heads. “Best gardeners in Alaska. Better than the Timmy-Tomanlians on their best day.”

Dassah giggled. “We da man!”

Bitty laughed. “Sometimes! And sometimes the tomato is.”

And behind Grandpa’s motorhome, in the middle of a Wasilla winter, summer lived in a little plastic house, loved as themselves by five kids, one dog, one stuffed dog, and a grandpa who knew how to grow hope.