Reality is setting in. First, a sighting of Santa Claus and Frosty the Snowman waving at me from the fire trucks enroute to Mattapoisett’s Shipyard Park. Then, waking up to the loveliest of pictures: new-fallen snow with the gentle flakes still blanketing the ground. Not to mention the 14-degree temperature. With the winter solstice approaching this weekend we will surely understand what is ahead. Hint: Cold, quiet, peace.
The winter solstice marks the official beginning of astronomical winter (as opposed to meteorological winter, which starts about 3 weeks before the solstice). It occurs once a year in each hemisphere: December in the Northern Hemisphere and June in the Southern Hemisphere. On the day of the winter solstice, we are tilted as far away from the Sun as possible, which means that the Sun’s path across the sky is as low in the sky as it can be. Think about the daily path of the Sun: It rises in the east and sets in the west, arcing across the sky overhead. During the summer, the Sun arcs high in the sky, but during the winter, it arcs lower, closer to the horizon.
The winter solstice (also known as mid-winter) is the shortest day and longest night of the year when Earth’s pole is tilted farthest from the Sun. Cultures worldwide have celebrated this moment of deepest darkness, symbolizing rebirth, with festivals, rituals, and lights, as seen in ancient structures like Stonehenge aligned with the Sun.
It is at this time of year when the fleeting nature of everything is quite apparent. Thus, the New England gardener’s lamentations begin anew as we face the reality and cruelty of change in the abject emptiness of the long cold season that we are entering, where growth ends, things die or go dormant.
It always catches me unaware… just when the fall temperatures mellow, the inevitable chill descends like a lead weight. The seasons come and go, and this is payback for having a glorious fall season. Alas, endings happen. But they, in turn, leave room for a new beginning.
A few weeks ago, on a particularly blustery day, a student drew my attention to the leaves streaming off a tree outside my classroom exclaiming, “Look, the tree is crying.” Indeed, at that moment it seemed plausible, but viewed another way, it will be turning over new leaves in the near future. Fresh and unblemished ones!
Admittedly, the Sun’s light will grow dim – comparatively. Yet when you think of light – does anyone really want to live in constant brightness? Along with that will come frost, ice, and snow. Without it the earth would stifle. Yesterday’s gone, it’s true. But nothing should be static. Don’t see it as a nail in the coffin so much as a springboard to change and reinvention.
The jolt will surely be hard at first, but you’ll soon get adjusted. Resigned to the season of nature’s slumber, we can take heart in what was and what will be again. The earth will sleep for a while, but then will come alive again, as it always does. But more than memories and hopes, we can find the silver lining to – dare I say it? – WINTER!
Often just removing yourself from the immediate help. A visit to the city can renew one’s sense of possibilities. Here are some more shiny thoughts to help you through the dark days:
-Decorate your window boxes. I put solar candelabras in each of mine and they look fabulous.
-Look for inspiration at flower shows, floral decorating classes and seminars.
-Enjoy a mid-winter breath of warmth – visit a greenhouse.
-Plan your next move, from seed and plant lists to redesigning your garden.
-Force bulbs indoors.
-Try out things that were put aside. Like that bonsai kit your partner gave you last spring.
-Feed the birds and enjoy how they animate the landscape. (Rewatching Mary Poppins inspired me in that regard!)
-Clean out old files to make room for new ones.
-Enjoy the tranquility of nature! Nothing restores like a walk through a snowy wood.
Don’t over-lament. Try to appreciate the good parts of the garden, even in barrenness. So much depends on how we perceive things. As my daughter Olivia offered: “It’s not the season of doom and gloom, at least not until after the holidays have passed.”
And remember, it’s not goodbye, but rather a sweet adieu.
“What fire could ever equal the sunshine of a winter’s day?” – Henry David Thoreau.
Seaside Gardener
By Laura McLean