Over Wintering

“Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.”

MAY SARTON

November and December are the months when I completely lose my gardening mojo, so I was struggling to know what to write about for this final post of the year, because my brain has been on other creative projects of late, while the garden and allotment have, to a degree, taken a back seat. So I was feeling a little hypocritical to be writing about the joys and bliss of gardening when I wasn’t exactly feeling it. But then I decided to be honest and address this directly because I’m sure I’m not alone here, and also I realised it’s all a part of the cycle of the year, and I shouldn’t feel guilty about it.

I think taking a little break from things in life, even the things you normally adore, is perfectly healthy, and sometimes essential.

I usually enjoy the best autumn weather through October, I weed and plant bulbs in the garden, I start to clear out some of the allotment beds, maybe throw some green manure seed down, maybe spread some regular manure, plant out over-wintering onion sets and lots of garlic. It’s a busy month. I’m aware that garlic can be planted out throughout November and December, and some varieties even later, but I always do it in October because I know what will happen. Once the clocks turn back towards the end of the month, my enthusiasm for gardening starts to fade as quickly as the daylight. I guess some of this can be blamed on the weather becoming increasingly wet and cold, but it’s somehow more than this. I’m happy to wrap up warm and go for a brisk walk, and even walking to the plot to dig a few veggies for dinner is okay (just) even though I get muddy. I just don’t have the enthusiasm to start any new projects, or do any planting or serious gardening. For me, the end of the year is like the end of the day, I feel like I want to wind down gently and get cozy for a period of rest.

I like to think that nature and our gardens feel the same way and I’m intuitively hearing it. My garden, if it could, would hang a ‘do not disturb’ sign up for everyone to see. The beds are covered with a blanket of brown leaves, there may or may not fall a duvet of white snow too, the plants and the insects are sleeping soundly underneath, and I am loathe to disturb any of this until spring. Why would I? I’m pretty sure mother nature ushers in the wet and cold weather deliberately to send us gardeners back indoors, she’s telling us to leave it be.

If I do get the urge to venture into the potting shed at least, it will only be to tidy up in there and sharpen a few tools. Preparation for the new season. Though even this can wait until a brighter day in January or February, when my fingers will begin to slowly develop a tinge of green again, just as the first green shoots appear in the garden.

I’m learning, as I grow older, to embrace the ebb and flow of life much more, like a gentle breath in and out. I’m trying to stay soft and flexible to the seasonal changes, adapting and accepting, rather than battling against the elements, brittle, resistant and liable to break.

The trees that survive the harshest of winters, do so because they have learned to adapt. Their branches remain flexible and are able to bend with the wind, or bow to the ground when laden with snow, ready to bounce back up when their heavy burden has melted away. Their energy supply gets pulled down into the roots, which is where they stay strong and grounded until brighter days return, when they can start to grow and bloom again.

I feel fortunate that as a gardener, my hobby guides me to align with the seasons, and it isn’t something relentlessly pushing forwards from one month to the next with no break. I’d frankly be exhausted, and would definitely have given it up by now. So I shall stop worrying that I have lost my gardening mojo, because it isn’t lost, it’s just taking a little wintry nap.

Talking of which, this Substack will be taking a slightly longer nap in the New Year. I hope to be back with some fresh topics and illustrations soon, so bear with me.

You can, of course, read through the backlist of posts if there are any that you missed, they will remain freely available, and I will be continuing with my sister Substack - Journal Drawings - next year, albeit in a brand new journal, with a different range of subjects. I hope to see you there.

If you’d like to support my work you can buy me a coffee here which will be very much appreciated. I also have a shop on Etsy called Zoe’s Garden Prints that you might like to mooch through, or you can share this post.