Years End: November & December 2022
Waiting
Today is bright and clear, but cold, winter has firmly settled in, inside the logs crackle in the wood stove as we linger a bit longer around its radiance. Outside, the world sparkles in the the early morning light, a lacy frost stretching across the sedum seed heads and fallen leaves, an icy crust crunching underfoot all throughout the garden. There is a stillness to the garden, the chickens stay in their coop until they hear my approach, they know my coming means sunflower seeds, kitchen scraps and fresh water. The wild birds are fewer, they cluster around the various feeders, zipping between feeder and hedgerow whenever we get too near. There is a sense of waiting in the air. The animals, the garden, us, waiting for the return of the light, waiting for the winter and the waiting for the first signs of spring.
Songs of Autumn
Marry Oliver
Don’t you imagine the leaves dream now
how comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of the air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees, especially those with
mossy hollows, are beginning to look for
the birds that will come–six, a dozen–to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its long blue shadows. The wind wags
its many tails. And in the evening
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.
November
A few days before November the temperature dipped over night, and the first frost settled across the garden. I awoke early that morning, I remember it clearly, my surprise at coming downstairs, rushing out to be in the garden, walking around it again and again. On one hand I mourned the end of it all, the loss of all those dahlias I didn’t bring in, but on the other hand I reveal in the fleeting magic of the moment, the garden quite literally frozen in time. The rich color of the garden sparkled in the early morning light, ice edging every petal and leaf. But it truly is only a moment. As the sun continues to rise, falling on the garden and temperature climbs, those stems will become blackened, the flowers drooping, drained of color and turned to mush with the thaw. The garden changes utterly from one day to the next.
November found us busy in the garden, as usual, the frost marked a transition to the garden, and now was the time to get on with all those jobs. There were still perennial weed to tackle, plants to plant or move, gardens to mulch, pruning, all the bulbs to get in the ground and the planning for spring and the coming year. I would say we had a rather mild month, the days were short but warm and the soil held its warmth too. Even a few summer days crept in here and there, and so we took to the marsh and picked a few flowers that weren’t bothered by a bit of frost.
I Heard a Bird Sing
Oliver Herford
In the dark of December.
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.
“We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,”
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.
December
December comes on in a rush, it feels that we leap, from clinging to the last leaves of fall, to Christmas carols and dreams of snow. Sometimes that leap feels disorienting, too sudden, while other times I long for the change. December is a special month, it is full of traditions that mark our lives and celebrate the light in the darkness, Advent, St. Lucia Day, the winter solstice, and of course Christmas. We trade pumpkins and leaves dipped in beeswax for dried oranges, candles and evergreen garlands. December is a month of waiting, of expectation, of darkness, light and hope.
In the garden is it much the same, a season of waiting, of expectation. We look back on the year and we dream of the next to come, standing in our gardens, we wait, anticipating the arrival of winter, but already looking to spring. Every time I walk past where I planted bulbs, I already feel joy at know that sometime the spring will come, and one day when I walk by, I will see the bulbs as they first break through the crust.
Our December Project
This December we decided to finish (well not quite, we ran out of time with the ground freezing, but mostly anyhow) the upper annual garden. I have dreamed of having this space for years now, so the fact that it now exists is still settling in and every day when I walk through that space, I am reveal in it. I have been greatly inspired by English cottage and kitchen gardens, and specifically related to this space, their use of hedging and structure mixed through the garden and using these hedge and structure plants to visually create a “walled garden”.
So this veg garden is inspired by the English kitchen gardens I have seen and read about. This Spring we planted a European Beech hedge that wraps around two sides of the garden. These were just little twigs, barely visible, so it will take many years before they will look like my dream, but I wanted to do the whole process myself, planting the whips, pruning / training them to the overall shape we wanted. So for now this garden sits exposed, but eventually it will be a totally private space to work in, to retreat to, to enjoy.
This last spring we finished the walls that let us create the space, planted the hedge, built the little greenhouse and built a potting shed. And this December, we installed the raised beds and in ground beds, and the peastone pathways / work spaces.
This garden shed, started out as a way to use up excess lumber we had had milled, and to of course be a function storage and work space for me, but the overall vision of the shed has changed and I love out little shed. It is a small potting shed, but it has lovely proportions. We decided to try out a technique that I have wanted to do for years, we used a Japanese technique of charring the wood in order to preserve it, call Shou Sugi Ban. We loved the practicallity and the effect so much that we carried that over to the raised beds as well. The heavily-charred surface makes the wood more fire retardant as well as resistant to rot, insects and decay.
I can not wait to spend some time this winter planning out the garden beds for the coming season. But for now, with this project finished for now, we are stepping back from garden projects and instead spending these last few days focusing on Advent, on Christmas, savoring the last bit of this year as we dream of the new to come.
So no jobs, just my musing and a little update on our homestead. Happy Solstice tomorrow, a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!