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Posts Tagged ‘winter’

I’m fretting about my lavender.  This has not been a typical winter, and I don’t even need my high boots to walk through the garden, let alone snowshoes, which by this time of the season are, normally, pretty much de rigueur.  These temps and snowfall seem to belong, maybe, in North Carolina, or perhaps Connecticut, but certainly not Vermont.  By now, it should be warmer in my freezer than outdoors, and I should require snowshoes to fill the bird feeders, and my parka should have its big furry hood zippered on for the winter.  But none of that has been necessary so far.  There are only a few inches of snow on the ground, and the temperatures will get above freezing again today and tomorrow, and for the rest of the week.  For the sake of my lavender, I hope things change…. I hope REAL winter comes soon.

Deep snow cover and consistent cold temperatures (by cold, I mean below freezing) are necessary to keep the lavender, and other non-zone-4- hardy plants, from heaving their roots.  Without the protection of a good layer of snow, if the ground begins to thaw and then re-freezes, and maybe does that several times, the roots of non-hardy plants will loosen in the soil and the nutrients will be pulled up into the thawed stems.  By spring the plant will likely be dead.  In my zone, it’s a good rule-of-thumb to cover these non-hardy plants with leaves or pine branches once the ground first freezes, but I have come to rely on, besides finding the best protected spot for my lavender, our winter weather to do the job for me.   I’ve lost many lavender plants over the years, but this one has survived, grown big and sprawly and generous, and I love it.  So, this year, with no winter so far to speak of, I’m worried about my lavender.

early morning thornbush

Once, as a young girl, some small grief had me undone, it seemed, to the depth and core of my being.  I don’t remember the incident, I wish I did, but it was some matter of injustice I’m sure.  I was a sensitive child (exquisitely sensitive, I now say…) and was deeply troubled by things that weren’t right.  My father found me weeping — I would go into his study and curl up in his big leather chair when I needed a good cry — and he did what he usually did when he found me there.  He simply sat quietly next to me and didn’t say a word.  Sometimes he would stroke my head, but not very often.  Mostly he just sat, as if he already understood.  When my shoulders stopped heaving and the sobs turned to heavy sighs, he would only say, “are you better now?” and his strength and warmth and kindness and the faint smell of his pipe tobacco would seem like the best hug in the world, and then I was okay again to go back out and face the world.

But this one time, I was aware of how keenly I was upset; and I recognized that my siblings and classmates, well, everybody else for that matter,  didn’t seem to ever become as thoroughly distressed as I often did.  Something must be wrong with me, I figured.  Something broken. This I remember: I wailed,  Daddy, how come I get like this??

My father could be a fierce person, very scary.  I didn’t always recognize his love, but I think I always recognized his wisdom. This time, his answer was gentle.   Because you have a deep soul, he said.  You feel everything more deeply.  It is not a bad thing, because it means you can feel joy more deeply too.  And I knew he was right.  He took me to the window, and we looked out on the bare winter trees and the snow on the ground, and the gray winter sky.  He said to me,  It is winter now,  cold and dark.  But summer will always come.   There are many seasons, but there is only one sun.  You may feel the depths of many things, but you have only one heart to feel them with. 

For my lavender, a good winter is necessary for strong blooms in the coming summer.  I wish us all the joy of blooming.

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was within me an invincible summer.”  Albert Camus.

in my backyard, winter as it should be...

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