I once won a knock-down, competitive hand of Apples to Apples on the strength of my argument about weeding and satisfaction. And I feel pretty cocky I could win all over again today. Winter gardening here smells like chocolate mint, damp earth, and onion. There are dry brown skeletons of redwood needles that fell from our neighbor’s tree, along with kale, parsnips, and peas. The cauliflower isn’t looking so good. But other things are, and every once in a while I take a break from weeding to snap a pea off the vine, open it along the seam and feast on the fat green goodness inside.