Vibrant Village ™

"In the depths of winter I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." – Albert Camus

I’m not fond of cold weather. Winter has always been a season just to get through. I am completely unproductive, even paralyzed amidst a cold weather season. My main goal is just to get warm and stay warm any way I can. I set my eyes on late March and simply wish Spring into being for three to four months in advance of its coming.

This year, for many reasons, I’m stepping back and taking a different look at winter. There is much to be learned from a time of stillness – simply waiting and allowing things to happen in their own time and own way. It is a time to observe and listen with a sensitive and expectant eye and ear.

For the garden, obviously, it is an important time of rest and re-energizing. Seeds, as do people, go through dormant periods for many different reasons, and in various ways. Some seeds lack a true dormancy. They respond easily and quickly to their signals to sprout: water and temperature. Should these signals happen at an inopportune time, a seed may germinate, but not develop.

Other types of seeds have triggers to allow them to remain dormant until the time is right. Some have pigments that keep them inactive until exposed to specific types of lights, while others have a chemical presence that induces dormancy. The chemical agent develops during late summer and early fall, but dissipates as winter progresses allowing germination in the spring. Still others have very thick seed coats that don’t allow permeation by light or water, but thin, over time, due to a variety of environmental factors.  An example of this is the strawberry seed. These must actually be eaten and digested by animals to weaken the thick coating.

Of course, I do what I can, or at least what I think I should do to help prepare my garden for the cold of winter. I clean up any debris, turn under composted materials in my empty vegetable beds to fertilize and ready the beds for spring, and mulch everything with a light material such as pine straw. A thick layer of light mulch will still provide much needed protection for roots and seeds, without encouraging dampness and rot.

If you’re someone who enjoys growing your own vegetables or flowers from seed, you’ve probably already broken out the seed catalogs and ordered.

There are several heirloom seed catalog companies, which are a nice option. I’ve used Baker Seeds in the past with good success. Heirloom seeds not only provide the satisfaction of growing from genetically unaltered seed, but, once your harvest is complete, your source of seed for next year is at your fingertips.

You’re probably already in the “heat” of seed germination as well. Most garden vegetable seeds fall into the category of seeds that respond as soon as light and warm temperatures are provided. If you’re getting a late start, a bit of warmth under the trays speeds things up. I had a very difficult time with tomato seeds until I placed an electric throw under the tray. It was, literally, an overnight success.

So, these things done, we wait.

We ready our garden beds, our seed trays, and our spirits for what can be a lengthy season of rest and reflection. As I try to come to terms with the chill and brownness of winter, I see many parallels between gardener and garden.

At times, I jump quickly at opportunities or relationships that offer much needed signals, but succumb to reality when signs quickly change. Perhaps wisdom does come with age, and as I cross an important age threshold, I find I truly want to take my cue from nature and its lessons.

Let my germination of mind and spirit happen in the time and way it is best designed to happen. For right now, a thick protective coat is exactly what I need. As the seasons and circumstances progress, perhaps I, too, will begin a thinning that will allow the embryos of new ideas and challenging possibilities to emerge and thrive. Blessed be.

"In the depths of winter I finally learned

that within me there lay an invincible summer."

– Albert Camus

Constance is a life-long North Carolinian and learned her gardening craft from her 'green-thumbed grandmother' who allotted Constance a small garden space and a package of pumpkin seeds and let her “have my way with it.” Today Constance continues to “practice” her gardening efforts at her home in Beaufort, North Carolina, assisted by her tribe of feline garden helpers.