I just came in from plucking the first ripe tomatoes from my garden, and it occurred to me that the magazines have it all wrong.
It doesn't matter if its a glossy fashion magazine, or a recycled-paper tribute to green living. They all are about three months (or more) ahead of reality. Those mid-May "Recipes For Your Bountiful Garden!" issues are great, but my garden isn't "bountiful" until late August. By then, the magazine has been long since recycled... and no, I'm not organized enough to clip the recipe and tuck it away for later.
The horse publications showcase their "Groom Your Horse to WIN!" articles in February. Seriously? No horse on this place will even consider a public event until late April. I've never body-clipped a horse and don't intend to start; the idea of all that white hair flying up my nose and down my bra is less than appealing to me.
"Spring Fashion!" seems to bloom on the magazine racks as soon as the Valentine's candy is marked 50% off. Awfully optimistic, considering we can't count on spring until June, around here.
And then, of course, my favorite: Christmas in October. We've just spent a king's ransom on back-to-school clothes, and now they are marketing Christmas? When I've barely got my tomatoes canned? Sheesh! I don't want to even think about Christmas until Thanksgiving dinner is consumed and its leftovers properly refrigerated. Then, I'm ready to settle my gluttonous self into the recliner and peruse the ads... not one moment sooner.
Yes, I do realize that magazines cater to dreams and optimism, and for that reason alone I'm a hard core addict. Few things give me greater pleasure than twenty minutes of free time to enjoy a diet soda (yeah, yeah... I know) and a shiny new magazine, be it published by Martha or Oprah or Mother Earth.
Don't believe for one moment that the internet will ever totally replace paper magazines; so many are impulse buys ("Wow, a magazine about junk decor! Booyah!").
I do wish, however, that those who publish them would head out of the concrete jungle for awhile to see how the rest of us live... and when we harvest our tomatoes.