You knew it was coming.
Amidst a snow squall (or, at least the beginnings of one), I sadly picked what was left in the garden.
With full winter gear on (a heavy coat, a hat and gloves), I headed out to the garden this morning.
Jack Frost needed to remind me that there is no more pretending that winter may not come to Canada this year (there is always hoping!). As the snow fell quickly (most of which has now melted away), I dusted off the cabbages and pulled them from the dirt. In all of their beautiful green glory, this last bit of harvest reminds me of the beauty that a bit of hard work (and lots of praying) will reward you with.
As I look around, I see all the signs that summer has closed up shop and I should follow suit…and, instead of being sad that it will be many months before I can put a shovel in the ground, I saw beauty in what lies ahead for us this winter.
A fresh dusting of snow means nature has time to slow down a bit. Throughout the summer months, with the heat of the sun and the moisture from the rain, organisms and tiny creatures are hard at work breaking down and composting bits in the garden to transform them into luscious, rich soil. Although those tiny creatures are still hard at work, things slow down and many go dormant, giving nature a chance to rest.
I like to leave something in the garden to say thank you to the “creatures” that kept me company as I toiled away in the summer months. And, although those that remain are only a handful in comparison to those that were here months earlier, this is my way of sharing the harvest with them, hoping they will be back next summer.
Rest for my tractor….a true sign of love when your tractor gets a space in the garage and your car stays out all winter long!
As the lake gets it’s first dusting this year, I bid adieu to the growing season, with a promise to enjoy the “slowness” of winter. There is true beauty in this cycle of growth and dormancy. Maybe it’s a sign for all of us to slow down and enjoy the miracle of transformation. Nature has a funny way of reminding us that, no matter how steadfast our plans are, sometimes we just all need to take a deep breath and slow down enough to smell the flowers (or at least what’s left of them).