Pressing Pause in the Garden

It can be tough in winter for those of a gardening kind, but where there's a will there's also a way. There's also opportunity though to pause and take things steady, as I wish to point out.

During these midwinter weeks here in the UK, the accepted norm is not to head out mowing the lawn each week; indeed trimming, weeding or feeding the garden generally takes a backseat. Contrary to popular belief though, during these colder months gardeners don’t stash away their tools, kick back in the shed whilst drinking hot chocolate and peruse seed catalogues. In fact, for many skilled and professional horticulturalists, easing back isn’t even up for discussion.

Tending larger or public gardens and green spaces does call for year-round activity, and thousands of trained ‘horts’ are directly employed in positions across the country, not to mention thousands more who work in supporting trades feeding into a vibrant plant-based industry. On the ground though, activity in winter, even for today’s stylishly clad tooled-up gardener, is often dictated by the weather and whim of nature: storms coming and going, ice and snow too, and that all important winter wetness which moves in for the duration, creating a need to tread ever so lightly upon the earth.

What can’t escape us, then, is that whilst we joke about gardens and their carers settling gently into winter hibernation, and by early December it would usually have been very well deserved, we must accept that gardens do indeed slow down at this time of year. By relation, the range of tasks open to the gardener during these ‘quieter’ months can, dare I say it should, reduce too.

Naturally, in professional situations tasks can sometimes broaden to include other off-subject jobs, and in this respect, each place and its people make their choices. In home garden situations however, the arrival of winter proper does present us with a genuine opportunity to ease back on the pedal, a chance to step back from gardening for a while and often, both the garden and its wildlife will thank us for it.

The challenge is, if we’re born with green blood running through our veins and dirt under our fingernails and live for a regular flow of fresh air to our lungs, stepping back from the garden, even during winter is akin to cutting an umbilical cord. As a gardener to my core, therefore, even knowing that I willingly embrace my winter garden for all it is worth, right now I can feel distant from its touch. It’s as though I’m holding myself back, waiting for the right moment when I can get out there and be playfully active again

Snow comes and goes, bringing beauty and elegance, not frosty frustration. Image: G.Webb.

There was a time when I earned my living as a full-time gardener working most every day, out there moving things forward whatever the weather, but not so much now. Having moved these days into an advisory position I guide, I don’t spend my working days actively gardening and tending plants. Therefore, whilst professionally I continue to learn from and endeavour to influence others, and I love that, I personally get to garden just as I please.

Being lucky to tend a home patch of ground, the act of gardening consequently fills my precious free time only, where I mindfully tend my own garden and an allotment plot too. In these places my gardening green fingers are usually far from idle, flexing just as far as my spaces, energy and pockets allow. Just now though, in midwinter and on the back of the festive interlude, I’m distant from the art itself, from one plot and the other.

I’ve continued to visit them both of course, indeed every day I step into my home garden if just to top-up bird seed, the pond, or feed the fish if they’re wanting. Actual gardening, however, a practice lodged deep in my bones, has become more of a memory or dream over reality, and this does give me cause for reflection, if not concern.

I say all this knowing that back in those short December days, I spent many hours between the rain digging out a foundation for a new construction, a base that will in time compliment both my gardening and writing activity. I dug deep and grew taller from clay collected on my boots. Soil was moved, measurements taken, and a foundation laid from which good things will grow this year. This wasn’t gardening in the truest sense of course, but after bulb planting, it was activity in the garden, toil in my happy place, and with a robin alongside for good company

Midway through the mucky mayhem, a little sit down to take it all in and measure my progress.

That was then however, and weeks have passed since wielding a garden tool with intent. Right now, as far as gardening is concerned my ground lies fallow. I can see tasks calling quietly from one corner or another, some winter pruning there, some cutting back over here and the borders could do with a mulch, but for now as snow falls, all that can wait. For the time being, I am using my time to rest, observe, read, plan and write.

The point being, is that I don’t need to force myself upon the garden all the time. As a blend of art and design, I have intended all along for my home plot especially to embrace nature, and whilst almost every plant and object has a considered place and purpose, to a degree I like to leave things to fend for themselves. To that end, whilst I’d quite happily work in the garden every day, I do like to sit back and watch the garden becoming itself, and I actively if submissively choose to let it be.

Time will come for action, and I look forward to that day with anticipation. Just now though, knowing and supporting pro gardeners who’re working day in and day out, I’m content to spend these priceless days simply observing my own winter garden. As I write, new shoots have already broken through the ground in search of light, and snowdrops bloom, reminding me this slower time will fade away all too soon. This winter window therefore is treasured for it will not last. Right now, sits opportunity to observe the ebbing and flowing of weather, to gently acclimatise to the lengthening days, and feel the fragility of nature as birds arrive to scratch around in search of sustenance.

To resist the call to action then, partly acceptable based on a prior season of attending to all manner of tasks, is just as important as gardening itself. Stepping back, taking time to experience the winter garden for everything it has become is caring, and even if only partly embraced, can bring us even closer to nature and the garden

Winter flowers in all their glory. There aren’t many more, I must be honest! Image: G.Webb

Accepting this frame of mind then, it is not for me to force myself upon my home garden or plot just now or to meddle, when all it needs, like myself is to pause. If I falter, I can maybe tidy a little here and there, and in due course I shall make time for some pruning and mulching, but right now I must wait.

In writing this I’m giving myself, and you too if you will, permission to take things steady, to enjoy these short days and longer restful nights for what they are. Before long, these peaceful days shall pass, sap shall rise again with passion, gardens will flourish and this winter pause will become but a memory. Let’s cherish this gift of rest then, both from, and for the garden.

By Gary Webb, Gardening Ways.