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 After
the first killing frost of autumn, it is time to
prepare the garden for a winter rest.
The dead
tomato, squash, and pepper plants were pulled up
and added to the compost. Hollyhock stems and
gigantic mullein stalks were removed with the aid
of scissors and saws. Some remaining weeds were
pulled, and occasional left-over flowerheads were
removed from the perennials. It's generally a good
idea to take such dead plant material to the
compost, rather than leave it in place, as it can
encourage pests and diseases to
overwinter.
The garden
(especially a new one like ours) now looks pretty
sparse and bare once again. I'm covering some of
the flower beds with bark chip mulch, which will
stay on next year for weed control and moisture
retention. The main vegetable garden may get a
covering of raked leaves. (It's not always easy to
know if this is a good idea. Leaves can become
waterlogged over winter and prevent air from
getting into the soil. They can sometimes harbor
diseases as well. Here in New Mexico, however, they
are likely to crumble and make a kind of leaf-mold
compost on the surface of the garden, contributing
organic matter and a little insulation. If in
doubt, try it on a small area and see what you
think of the results when spring comes
around.
Every ending
is a new beginning, and this is easy to see in the
garden. With the annuals and vegetables gone, the
garden returns to a simple state, pristine and
quiet. It's not hard to look out and anticipate
seeds sprouting and new growth emerging from the
perennials.
But before
that happens, there will be a long rest. The
resting time is a welcome thing, for both garden
and gardener. Roots continue to grow underground,
slowly and opportunistically as weather allows.
Mostly, however, it is just a quiet time. Many
animals reduce their activities or migrate in
search of easier food. Before long, the snows will
descend, and disguise all evidence of summers past.
For the gardener, the times of keeping up with
watering, weeding, and harvesting are gone. In the
winter, one's relationship with the garden is more
like visiting a wild landscape that can be enjoyed
without activity or burden.
This is a
welcome part of the cycle of the year, as sleep is
welcome after a tiring day. There is the promise of
a fresh start in the future, and the present
blessing of quietude. Autumn is always a mystical
season for me. The cool air is like a breath of
timelessness, a taste of being after so much
doing.
The lessons
of late autumn and early winter are profound ones,
but uncomfortable for a society of consumerism to
embrace. Instead of seeing cycles, we've come to
think of time as a straight line, always upward
into more, more, more. In this picture, we can
acquire forever without releasing, we can work
forever without resting, and we can live forever
without dying. In our modern Western culture, if
something is classified as an ending, it is likely
to be treated as taboo: death, divorce, retirement
. . .
This
discomfort with endings is rooted in an illusion:
that change is possible without loss. It is never
so. Everything that comes into our lives, no matter
how welcome, changes us and changes how we live.
College graduation brings a diploma, but sweeps
away the lingering mantle of youth and youthful
friendships. The blessings of marriage and family
clear away the life of autonomy and solitude.
Creating your great masterpiece means no longer
having your great masterpiece to work
on.
My point is
not to say that all endings are really good and all
beginnings are really bad. It is just this: when
something goes, something else comes; when
something comes, something else goes. We mess
ourselves up when we focus on only one side,
feeling only elation at a beginning and only
despair at a loss. Instead, we can replace the
linear polarity of gain/lose, live/die, good/evil
with something more centered: a self-renewing cycle
of change.
This fall
clearing, removing the skeletons of summer's life
and letting the earth breathe freely again, is a
kind of sacred act, an affirmation of change and a
turning of the great wheel of life.
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