As we work through Advent, the season is darkening in the Northern Hemisphere. We are approaching not only Christmas, but the darkest night of the year.
The new Sting CD I just bought had some musings about the necessity of winter in our psyche.
Summer is lovely, but we can’t keep up that pace forever. Winter forces us to stop, to wait. In our modern world, we turn up the heat, put on extra clothes, and head out to work: winter, summer, rain, shine, whatever. For most of human history, however, winter meant staying at home, scraping by on what you had harvested over the summer, thinking about the year past, and planning for the year to come.
I’ve been busy putting the garden to bed. In southeastern Virginia, some things grow year round. The parsley seeds that dropped in the summer are coming up in a bright green carpet, as are the carrots. Swiss chard is perfectly happy through the winter. But, somewhat intentionally, I am not planning a winter garden.
For starters, the year was too crazy, and I haven’t quite caught up. More importantly, however, I need the break. In the middle of the work, planning can be somewhat haphazard, and it always feels like stopping to plan properly is an unaffordable luxury when the weeds need pulling. Every year, as the weather gets colder (relatively speaking- it isn’t the upper Midwest!), I’m still pulling weeds, pulling dead plants, turning the soil over, turning in leaves and compost, and layering everything over with mulch like a huge comforter.
When it’s done, the winter garden has its own beauty. Summer is abundance, tomato plants spilling out of the tops of their cages, and a cacophony of colors and textures. Winter is the monotony of brown pine needle mulch, bare branches, and tan garden walls. Flat garden beds under their blanket of pinestraw replace mounds of foliage studded with vegetables. The harvest, for good or bad, is in and stored away (no longer a source of terrible concern, in this day of 24-hour grocery stores).
And when it’s done, it’s done. For months. The only garden chore for at least a few months is to browse garden catalogs, daydream, and plan for next year’s garden.
This time of year, in the garden and in the Church year, is for recollection. How did the year go? What could have gone better? What did I do well? What did I do poorly? Where was I remiss in care, in duty, in diligence? There are fewer distractions: the garden is going to bed, and the Church calls us to come aside for a season of penance and recollection in Advent. We prepare for the feast of Christmas.
I am unlikely to see snow, but winter comes. And it’s good for us.
[…] 2, 2010 by politicalhousewyf The flip side to my Advent musings about the function of winter in our lives is that winter doesn’t just come, it stays. (Thanks to my friend Stephanie for […]