In a winter garden, I plan next season’s plantings. Reflecting carefully, of course, on last year’s harvest.
Now is the time for imagining the ideal. The time for optimistic enthusiasm before the rolling up of sleeves and the dirt of hard work and effort and hope collects under my fingernails. A season of dormancy. A renewal of strength, purpose, and spirit.
In this season of life and living, I’ll determine what’s important to plant. Which fields in my life to let lie fallow in rest. There’s preparation to be done. Research. Trust. Faith in the future. A belief in the cycles and pace of my own nature. Knowing the truth that all is as it should be: living in the cold, wind, and darkness of winter as necessary precursors to light, warmth, and germination.
I winnow through expectations, weeding out what I’ve got to let go. Sow starter seeds, watchful for what takes root. Which seeds prosper? Which seeds – promising as they may be – were never really meant for my own little patch of soil? Some seeds, I know, only sprout after repose.
How will I nourish myself? Gather strength? Coax growth?
In a winter garden, I reap what’s happiest in today, hopeful tomorrow’s garden will grow in it’s time.
one hopeful year 
Gardening is something I’ve never done well or even have much interest in. Perhaps because past attempts weren’t successful. But, the analogies as applied to life always settle well with me. You’ve given me a new perspective on the dormant times and quiet hope that remains. Weeding, nourishment, discernment, yes…all are needed in my ‘garden’.
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A very reflective time of year for me. I want very much to tend to myself – self-absorbed as that may sound. Thanks for joining me in the garden. Perhaps a refreshing glass of lemonade?
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