winter garden walkabout
Oh, baby, it's cold outside. At least for this California transplant. And while I remind myself that winter was often cold in the Valley where I come from, cold appears to be relative. So, contrary to my usual habit of going on "walkabout" through the garden in the morning to check its inhabitants, both green and feathered, I am now more prone to just peer out the kitchen window and get an overview and hope for the best. It takes a metaphorical crow bar to get me out there.
And so on walkabout this morning(based on the crowbar of this blog), I tenderly brushed the broccoli leaves(they do seem stressed) and examined the emergent parts of the artichoke. I sat on a paving stone to relate to the lavender and the dianthus. Stressed or no, I am impressed with their resilience. And their grace toward me who, as keeper of the garden, should be more responsible to cover everybody out there when a freeze occurs. I have never been one to particularly coddle the garden plants, but this winter I feel there is a greater investment involved--perennials I would like to see enjoy a little longevity and express their gratitude with some edibles or such next warm season. I am comfortable with letting the garden sleep, but, let's face it, everybody needs a blanket some time!
Especially since the garden just feels so exposed. With the leaves down and the native perennials hiding under the surface of the soil, it is a more empty place. A more vulnerable place. The brave souls that remain above ground tempt the deer, who can now see into the garden, and the freeze, which can harden even the top layer of soil. Even the new bed, laid out last month, looks more like a fresh grave than anything holding promise for a future of abundance and growth.
Yet there is beauty. In the silence, in the cold, in the emptiness. Like a desert it touches the soul with a bittersweet never accomplished by bright spring profusion. Paradoxically from death comes life. From the grave comes germination. From the time of cold and silence comes refreshing, and riotous life. In so many ways in life we experience the promise of regeneration, if we would but notice. We should be able to expect it. We should know, deep down, that resurrection indeed comes.
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