Winter Blues Making You Feel Blah? Get Thee to a Greenhouse!
The problem with February? We have had ample time to have our fill of Indiana-located, preschooler-appropriate winter activities–sledding, ice skating, the building of stuff out of snow, the climbing upon great piles of snow plowed off of the street, etc.–and we have had ample time to have our fill of Indiana-located, preschooler-appropriate indoor activities–we’ve had a crafty Christmas, finished our handmade Valentines, read loads and loads of books, and played with little plastic ponies until I’ve started to talk in the pony voice sometimes without even being aware of it–”Neigh, neigh! Climb on my back and we’ll fly to Rainbow Land! Neigh!”
Ahem.
How refreshing it is, then, to occasionally pull on our boots and snowpants and bunny-ear hats and make the long hike over to the big university in our town, which has a biology department.
And that biology department?
Has a greenhouse.
And that greenhouse?
Is open to the public.
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First of all, it’s warm in a greenhouse, the warm of a nearly forgotten summer. In a family in which Mean Momma keeps the thermostat set to 66 degrees and any complaint of cold is met with, “Then go put on more clothes!”, warmth is a heady luxury.
Also? The plants. The beautiful, beautiful plants. Local plants and exotic plants. Food-bearing plants and ornamental plants. In the summer, my girls are immersed in plants because we handle them every day in our garden–they’re something ordinary, perhaps even a chore.
But at a greenhouse in the winter, plants are treat and a novelty, and the questions come fast and furious–Why is every one green? What’s the name of that flower? Why is that spiky? Why aren’t there any bananas on the banana tree? Does a panda live here to eat the bamboo?
I’m a big proponent of celebrating and honoring seasonality, but sometimes it takes an anachronism to point out how really beautiful and wonderful one component of a certain season really is.
Oh, and it’s a hallmark of experiential education. Such as when you point out the sign on the door to the cacti room that says, “Warning! Some plants inside are not suitable for touching!” and you explain to your children several times that they shouldn’t touch any of the plants inside because some of them might be sharp, and the first thing your four-year-old does upon entering the room is lay her entire palm across a small ornamental cactus, and she shrieks and her small hand looks like Old Yeller just had a fight with a porcupine, and you have to go ask the gardener for some tweezers–see? Experiential education.
