Today
I give thanks
for being just as I am.
Nothing more
Nothing less.

My favorite holiday is less than two days away. I do so enjoy the connectedness we all share for this special event. All across these United States, as one people, preparations are underway. While some travel to the bosom of family and dear friends, others get ready to receive them. Old family recipes resurrected, new variations added on, shopping lists filled at markets, kitchens emanating sounds and aromas of festivities to come. The anticipation and excitement in the air is palpable.

It is about now, before the crowd gathers and cooking is seriously in progress, that I take some time to fully acknowledge the spirit of the holiday. To review the past year and take note of the myriad blessings in my life. I do this in my most sacred of places – the garden. This year, there is a storm coming our way. Much disruption is being forecast and I’m inclined to conclude that in the stress of dealing with the complications, one will be less inclined to think about such metaphysical things like gratitude and convivial familial connections.

As I slowly wend my way around sleeping flower beds and leafless shrubs, I give thanks to my wisest and kindest of all teachers. This space that is my garden. I’m glad for every plant and creature I have encountered through the year. The beautiful and productive as well as the nasty and destructive. For without the latter, I wouldn’t know to appreciate the former. This year has had many challenges for me personally but the garden provided me solace. The chores gave me purpose and distraction while much joy was found in its beauty and bounty. I’m thankful for having this one place where nothing is expected of me and I’m accepted just as I am. Forgiveness and second chances abound here.All through the year, I have been guided to be present in the moment. To face whatever comes with an open mind and heart. To accept what is and not look to what is not. To find meaning and purpose in every situation. I have been given many reasons to feel proud and successful while at the same time, the garden has, on many occasion, gently pushed down my ego and put me in my place. I’m all the better for the hard lessons.

In the end, what truly matters are those everyday moments. The dailiness of life is the true gift. Big happenings, good or bad can derail a person but the normal and the routine offer immeasurable comfort and peace. So, come Thanksgiving Thursday, I’m deeply thankful for the expected and the usual. The sunshine and the rain.The ritualistic meals, the familiar settings, the dearest people and the immense love I have for them all.

I wish each of you a beautiful, peaceful and happy Thanksgiving.
I’m sharing some end of season images of the garden’s bounty:

Romano cauliflower

Last of the Rainbow Swiss chard.

Roses and rose hips.

Sedum Autumn Joy at the end of the season.

It happens every year at this time. The bittersweet end of the growing season. The busy pace of getting garden chores done is mirrored only by that frenzy in spring. With a difference. While the spring is fueled by the eager anticipation of flowers in bloom, potagers burgeoning with produce and long days spent in the embrace of the sun, at this time, there is a distinct feeling of reluctance and longing.

Putting the garden to bed is itself quite satisfying. A parental gesture of safeguarding the garden so it gets through the long night of winter without incident. But, the heart is heavy as we brace ourselves for whatever the cold months portend. Anxiety surfaces as the shadows lengthen. As children of the sun, it is but natural to feel sad as we move farther from it. Forced to spend more time indoors, deprived of natural light and fresh air is a recipe for low spirits and gloomy temperament. Our transition from outside to in, is never easy. Separation of garden and gardener is sorrowful. But there is a silver lining to this icy, dark cloud. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

As a gardener, I’m nothing without hope. Optimism is my calling card. I’ve come to not only accept that winter must be got through but, I appreciate what it does. The entire cold season, as long as it is, is a period of grace for the garden and myself. It is when we can rest, restore and recuperate after three seasons of hard work. Now is the time to replenish ourselves. The breathing space.

While the garden is in deep slumber, I take my own rest of sorts. Turning my attention to tasks that were neglected in the whirlwind of garden chores, I catch up with paperwork, organizing the house and pursuing creative passions that often get short shrifted in the warm months. Books that begged to be read are now indulged. Conversations with friends and family assume a more relaxed, intimate nature. I use this luxury of time to get my house and myself in order. With the new year, my calender is laid out with not only garden chores but doctor’s appointments, concerts and plays, museum visits, vacation dates, birthdays and anniversaries. If it is on the calender, it stands a very good chance of getting done/celebrated. I even mark off space for all of my creative efforts which require proper time and attention. In essence, these winter months are given to ensuring that balance is maintained.

Cozy by the fireplace, I plan the garden of my dreams where no mistakes are ever made. Accidents are a non-occurrence, chores always get done on time and without undue effort and, the plants do exactly as I’ve intended. Naturally, this garden looks fabulous all the time. I design, draw lists, order what is needed and such preparation sustains me all through the winter. But even before this, the groundwork for my positive outlook is laid out in fall. When I plant hundreds of spring blooming bulbs, Each of these plump, brown packages is full of promise and reassurance. Insisting on enduring the absolute cold of winter, they say with unequivocal certainty that the time of sunshine and honeybees will return. All in its own time.

After this respite, both garden and gardener are ready, energized and looking forward. The sap is flowing and we start all over again.

Attitude is everything. Sleep garden sleep.

The side path in slumber.

The path reawakened in early spring.

The herb and chekerboard gardens in winter

Early spring

Spring in the ‘meadow’.

Early daffodils

F. meleagris

Apple blossoms

Every year, when we turn back the clock, I go into a funk. Reduced hours of light affect me and cosequently, affect all who must live with me. Given that these dark days extend to months, I feel more than a little sorry for those who are treated to my cranky, disagreeable moods. Even I cannot stand myself at times. So I’ve learned to prepare for what is ahead. After all, if what cannot be avoided must be endured, I can at the very least make the experience pleasantly bearable. One day at a time.

Ideally, one would benefit from a winter-long sojourn to warm, sunny locales. But that, alas, is not my lot. I make do with what is at hand and what is possible. Mind you, I’m well aware that winter can have a very severe, debilitating effect on certain people. Medical intervention is necessary. Seasonal Affective Disorder is nothing to trivialize. For my purpose however, the actions I mention here suit me well.

As we move indoors for the next five months or so, I get started on my ‘Keep Myself Sane’ plan. Not surprisingly, I bring the garden indoors. I’m not just talking house plants. Two weeks ago, I started paperwhites in a big way. Almost every room has been graced with them. At this time, they are blooming charmingly and giving me a sense of the same joy that I experience in spring. Gradually, amaryllis will begin to bloom and later in January, the bulbs that had been occupying some prime real estate in the refrigerator will be forced. Thus, all winter long I will be surrounded by spring flowering bulbs.

In addition, I have assorted Wardian cases simulating mini-gardens to keep me company. A well appointed one of these never fails to put me in a good mood. ( Stay tuned for an article on terrariums and Wardian cases in the near future!). I’m also fortunate to have a modest-sized greenhouse and so, I escape to these forms of gardening quite willingly.It is a bit of cheating because there is none of the typical hardwork. Instead, with very little effort, all the joys of a garden are provided – greenery, flowers, fragrance. Gardners get unhappy if there is no where to garden.

Next, I address that tricky bit of creating more light. Replacing certain light bulbs with brighter ones makes a big difference. Particularly in spaces used for work, creative pursuits and, cooking. I also stock up on candles galore. A room lit with lots of candles instantly gives the impression that a celebration is underway. Get the fireplace(s) going and I’m all set. With cozy in mind, I have deliciously warm, elegant throws at every spot one might settle in for a good read, chat or nap.

Continuing in my attempt to stave off the seasonal blues, I approach the next sense that must be satisfied. Okay, fooled. And that, is the influence on the nose. Fragrant candles that gently evoke visions of the beach or meadows are a boon. Likewise, citrus fruits scent the air nicely and transport me to sun-kissed orange groves. When the jasmine in the greenhouse starts blooming, it gets moved to the bedroom to hopefully guide me into dreams of nights in India where the air hangs heavy with such perfume.

In general, I’m concious about minimizing the carbon-foorprint of the foods I buy. But sometimes, my well-being takes priority and I permit myself to indulge in a crisp guava, a juicy mango, sweet papaya, fresh pineapple or, pretty cactus pear ( the last makes for a delicious sorbet or sauce) just so I can make-believe I’m in some tropical paradise.

This is not to say I don’t absolutely enjoy the hearty winter stews and other cold weather tasties. But occasionally, there is the desire to transport myself to sunny, warmer climes. Time and finances permitting, I try to fit in a brief escape to exactly such a place. Even a few days can do wonders to one who is miserable in the short, dark days of these parts. In a pinch, take a trip to a local nursery and bask amidst the plants in their greenhouses. Even better, visit the conservatories in botanical gardens. The lush, tropical plants, the warm, humid air and suddenly you are in a whole different world.

The benefits of time spent outdoors are of course not to be undermined. A brisk walk has often been just the ticket to get me energized both physically and mentally. I do so adore the beautiful, glittery winter landscapes. However, all too often I find myself lapsing into a distinct state of laziness. To get up from the comfy couch, put on layers and layers of clothes, don those winter boots, step into biting cold air …. can be rather unappealing right? But oh! The awfulness of wallowing in a condition of depressed spirits and uncreative mind is much, much worse. And so a regular walk becomes a habit.

Finally, seed and plant catalogs that begin to fill mail boxes from the fall onwards are set aside for perusal in the deep of winter. Just when one begins to despair that the freezing weather will never end, the catalogs provide hope. They are the fodder that feeds the heart with dreams of future gardens. To envision all sorts of horticultural possibilities is wildly exciting and endlessly pursued. The pulse quickens, the imagination soars, eyes shine and designs are drawn, orders are placed as the soul is awoken to look ahead with optimism. With the gradual lengthening of days, the promise of spring is made good.

The sun will once again triumph and banish the long night. The demons will be silenced, fears will be overcome as the dark spaces are made visible. Light shall settle on earth’s shoulders and spring will be reborn. I believe with all my heart.

Lead Kindly Light, Amidst The Encircling Gloom …. – John Henry Newman 1833.

Paperwhites

Inside the greenhouse

Fresh flowers bring cheer

Amaryllis in bud

Orchids bloom in a friend’s greenhouse

Camillia – another winter bloomer

The herb garden in winter