For months and months now, I have been sad. It's a feeling of ennui, disengagement and disillusionment compounded by reaching an age I'm struggling to come to terms with, the pandemic, climate change, and any number of things that I'm finding difficult to detach from. But this week, I felt a smidgeon of hope - like a dust mote catching the late afternoon sunlight, a dewdrop on a spider's web or the thin veil of a dragonfly's wing, it was tiny, and fragile. Still, it was hope. I felt it in the garden, listening to birds, and music. It felt like my heart was opening again, after a long winter. I cupped it in my dirty hands and kissed it. Grow, dear hope, I breathed. Send your roots down into the earth. Unfurl your tender shoots and soft leaves. Grow.
As this tender feeling spread throughout my bones and pressed up against my rib cage, I felt energized, revitalised. It's late winter here in Australia and Spring starts in exactly a month's time, on the 1st of September. Our seasons don't really make sense according to a northern calender. I appreciate the first people's seasonal calender: here in this part of the country, there are six seasons, not four. I appreciate the attention to observing the birds, fish, flowers - it is a calender that pays close attention. It's certainly been the season of cockatoos as they screech above the flooding river, and we we've been visited by a group of less common gang gangs, up to 15 of them creaking like rusty shed doors in the cold winter air.
Wathaurung Seasons
August is usually wet, windy and cold - much like July. We have a minimum of 6, and a maxium of 13, on average, but on a day like today when the sun is out you'd be forgiven for stripping to a tshirt whilst working in the garden. I thumb garlic into the ground to utilise it's strappy leaves in cooking - it's too late for planting more on top of the crop I planted at Easter, which are doing well. Fennel and kohl rabi are forming, but the broccoli isn't heading too well - never mind, I eat the leaves and shoots well enough. Chard, parsley, kale, spring onions, swede and beetroot form part of our garden diet at this time of the year.
In the greenhouse, the miracle of capsicums and chillis continues - I've never successfully overwintered them or eggplant, but under the cover of plastic, they keep ripening. I'm thrilled. Jalapenos in mid winter are orgasmic, a taste sensation that releases endorphins and chases away my blues.
I love how a few scraps become lunch, defying the exact and purposeful ingredients of a recipe book. We eat omelettes because the chickens have begun laying, though they're plopping eggs mid yard as if they haven't quite figured out how to nest in the appropriate boxes. Garnished with harissa, olives and bright calendula flowers, it becomes a gourmet feast.
The narcissus and daffs are cheerily nodding away, telling us Spring is truly in the air, and there are other flowers too - violas and pansies, lavender and calendula. Winter seems shorter this year - that worries me a little, but like many of us, I push it to the back of my mind and concentrate on what joy is in front of me. What else can one do? Floods in Germany, fires in Turkey and Greece - what can a humble gardener do but carry on and keep planting?
Yesterday we took a drive down the coast and up through Apollo Bay to a herb nursery to see what they had - I was delighted to find elecapane and chamomile, which I need to find a space for, and a calendula plant that had originally, along with the chamomile, come as seed from a trip she made to Germany. I liked these origin stories alot, especially since my German grandmother's two herbal allies were always chamomile and calendula. With herbs on my mind, I planted white sage, echinacea, chamomile, mullein and thyme seeds. I'm new to this polytunnel lark, but I thought I'd experiment with starting some summer seeds early. Consensus in our local online Facebook group was that it was a good idea to start them over the next few weeks, so in went a few cold tolerant tomatoes, and some chilli seeds. Despite @minsmallholding's note with the seeds she posted me (purple maui chilli) about getting it in her eyes, I still managed to plant them and then rub my own eyes, resulting in an an hour or so blinking and stinging. Coupled with slipping over in the garage and banging the back of my head so hard I have a golfball sized lump, I thought it might be time to come in and have a bath, and write this reflection - although perhaps not both at the same time.
And that's where I leave you, dear greenthumbs and lotus hearts - don't forget this week is #gardenjournal challenge week, where you have a chance to win up to 30 HIVE for writing your garden journal. Head over to my profile to check out the guidelines, and drop your link there.
With Love,
Are you on HIVE yet? Earn for writing! Referral link for FREE account here
This has been a winter of discontent, that's for sure. Pandemics, freezing cold and then an attempted insurrection. I'm not optimistic either . Lucky you if you get rain in August, ours is windy too but the wind often blows in from the desert and it's hot and nasty.
The garden gives us a good lesson in just getting on with life, because that's what we do. I try to be resilient like the plants
Nice to see that glimmer, my dear friend. Grab on to that speck of dust and savor that drink of dew. I have my first orb weaver spider in the bushes out front. They always appear like clockwork the beginning of August. I love the coming of Autumn, so it brings me that small bloom of joy knowing my favorite season is ahead. Even if it does usually mean most of the garden dies off, I flourish in the cooler air.
Autumn is soooo stunning! The colours, the light, it's just magic. Enjoy!!!! I love Spring too but it's less dramatic than Autumn.
Yes! The drama. Perfect description for it. Still a ways off here, but a girl can dream of those cool nights and pumpkin everything...
And here is how to make a beautiful garden journal post with only two photos!
Sorry about your eyes, and your head. Neither impaired your vision in any way.
Gorgeous post.
Two photos... because I'm lazy as well as despairing 😂😂😂 Thankyou.
Oh.. double checked... FOUR photos!!!! I'll get out there and do some garden photography on weekend just for you.
I'm not complaining!!! I'm admiring! Those photos take forever, and constitute most of my time making a post. I tried to do google collage to spiffy it up some, but that would have added several hours! I might try fewer photos and more thoughtful post next time. I could very well not be living here then anyway.
I sometimes think - often think - less is more. And we are both word people, right? Not everyone is, I know. I love the freedom to see this challenge in any way we see fit - I hope you all do too. xx
Sending positive vibes to fertilize your hope. :)
I'm feeling them.. Thankyou!!!
Sounds like gardening was hard on the old noggin this time around.
I have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SADS) and starting in August (northern hemi) as the daylight wanes, I start to sink. I used to use strong special lights from August to April. But as the Lyme progressed, the light sensitivity got worse and I can no longer use them. But if you've experienced this low sinking in previous winters, it might be something to check out. Sure wish I could still use them...
What about Vitamin D supplements? They are meant to be good for SAD.
I used to suffer SAD but I don't anymore - I've just got LAD - life affective disorder :P
Vitamin D is definitely helpful for SAD. I take D even in the summer, just not as much and not every day. In the winter I take 3000iu every day.
The only Vit D I could get was some prescribed for my husband who wouldn't take it. I could not afford it otherwise. I couldn't tell if it helped or not. It was 50,000IU once a week.
Your winter is definitely more mild than the winter here...
I'd like to be able to plant early crops in March or April, but the ground here is frozen until April...
I always see your long snow and frost season and shiver. You certainly make the most of the summer growing season !!!
I do try! 😊