Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating thinking small, but rather picking one goal worth working toward and focusing enough energy there to achieve the goal in a satisfying way. I still have another month of plotting and dreaming, and I might jot down a few ideas for a secondary project. However, right now my emphasis will be on sketching where the lavender and coneflowers should go, along with decisions about what else I might throw into the mix along the new fence.

It’s interesting that I often face this same dilemma in my work. Of all the possible new ideas, it’s very hard to have the discernment to pick one and the focus to go after that, within the realm of all the possibilities. But it is such an important next step, after the blue sky phase, in order to accomplish a goal. How do you focus? How do you feel about half-done projects? It’s great to have dreaming time, but as I move from dreaming to doing, I’m going to try to pick one project in the garden!

The winter season can be hard for gardeners who want to be outside creating. However, this dormant season is a great time for observing, reflecting, considering and planning the next creative and fruitful season. Even for highly creative people, there are ebbs and flows of seasons, perhaps even times of dormancy. Times when the creative process goes internal and is not visible – a season of rest, reflection, observation and internal growth. All in preparation for the next season of flourishing and showiness.

So enjoy the winter season and make note of the increasing light this month. And prepare yourself for your next season of productivity.

P.S. The crocuses that I am forcing indoors have 1″ shoots now. I’ll keep you posted on their progress.

Crocuses: 6 weeks in fridge plus one week at room temperature

I had some leftover crocus bulbs that I didn’t get planted in November, so I put them in a pot with moist potting soil, stuck the pot in a plastic bag and put it in the lower back shelf of the refrigerator for about 6 weeks, watering once midway through. I pulled the pot out last week and now hopeful new growth is emerging. I’ll let you know how long it takes for the pot to flower, but even the green shoots are encouraging. If you have some leftover bulbs that you didn’t plant, you can still force them and have buds by mid-February. Or if you are in a hurry, the grocery store floral section has these kind of pots already forced for you. Sometimes I have a strong preference for do-it-yourself projects, but in this case, if you are craving spring, go buy it at the local store! Besides, it would have been more helpful for me to mention this project in November, rather than waiting until January; but I did want to see if the bulbs at least sprouted successfully before mentioning the process. You can also find daffodils and tulips in the cut flower section. For less than $10 you can have a little spring on your dining room table!

The interesting thing about the new fence is that it provides an opportunity to reassess the reason for various plantings. It’s a great shift for the new year and a good analogy for other areas of life. As the new year stretches as a white canvas ahead, I can follow the patterns of the past, or I can decide to try some new “plantings” and see what bears fruit. There have been many changes in my life situation over the past few years, with new opportunities in the empty nest season and new patterns in my husband’s work. How do these changes create new opportunities on my canvas and how will I decide to paint in new areas? I want to have the courage to paint boldly on the canvas, rather than make tentative pencil marks. However, I can also decide to try out some annuals for a few years, rather than committing to long-term plants such as perennials and shrubs. The canvas stretches before me … ready for the paint of the new year.

Cutting our own tree in the mountains is definitely about the outing and the tradition, not about a perfect tree. These trees grow in the wild and are not groomed for the Christmas tree lots. But for the $10 forest service permit, we get a tree that is a focal point and conversation item during the holiday season. And it smells like a tree.

According to today’s Wall Street Journal, only 23% of US households buy a real Christmas tree, down from 40% in 1991. I’m fine with being a Christmas minority.

I know some day, I will age out of the ability to make the trip to the mountains to get a tree. I remember the year my mother-in-law stopped putting up a Christmas tree. But for now I enjoy the trip and also the family history represented in the tree – both from the outing and the years of ornaments unique to our family.

Ornaments from our parents' early years of marriage, kewpie doll couple from 1930's and red ornament from 1950's

In America, the weeks before Christmas are full of many choices of activities, but in the liturgical calendar, Advent is a time of pause and preparation for the coming of Jesus. It is a time of waiting for the hope that is coming. I experienced the first day of Advent in a profound way last weekend in Nogales, Mexico, during an Advent mass held in “el comedor,” a soup kitchen for deported migrants. Those who left their homes in search of economic opportunity had their hopes dashed by deportation. Their physical need is more obvious and profound than my need, and yet at the core of my being, the trappings of security that I possess cannot give me ultimate hope. So in Advent, in hoping for the coming of Jesus, we find solidarity and community. We all hope for relationship with God, we all hope for peace in our souls, we all hope that our waiting will bring the promise.

As I paused to notice the beauty in my sleeping garden yesterday, the patterns of the snow on my flagstone patio were striking. I know that the source of beauty is from God, “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11) May I pause in this season, and explore the beauty of creation and prepare my heart for hope.

When the kids were much younger (8 and under), raking leaves was more fun because there was the jumping in the pile adventure. Then it got to be a chore. And we moved to a home with even bigger trees, and a neighboring tree that was on a different drop cycle. The neighbor’s tree starts dropping leaves in September and our trees go through mid-November. Lots of Saturdays with leaf duty. One time the kids thought it would be clever to rake a bunch of leaves under the car, as if we wouldn’t notice them when we drove out on an errand.

I suppose by the time Andrew was in middle school I could have made the chore more fun if I had purchased a power tool for the project. But I have a strong dislike for the noise of a leaf blower, so rakes and bags and loading the car for the city “Leaf Drop” mulch collection site was our normal fall pattern. In high school I definitely crossed the line of “mom the garden task-master” when I suggested that his friend join our leaf raking one Saturday. I figured since the boys hung out together so much, his friend was almost family. Somehow I imagined that sitting on the couch talking was somewhat similar to raking and talking, but apparently not. I still hear echos of this presumptuous assignment.

For Andrew’s first fall away at college, when I sent a care package with cookies I had the brilliant idea to include cushioning material — a Ziploc bag full of leaves. The reminder of fall leaf-raking was probably enough to avert any potential homesickness.

So now the nest is empty, and my husband and I rake and rake and rake. I’m pretty sure that in another 10 years or so, the cycle will be complete and my son will be sending his own kids out into the yard to rake leaves. He’ll probably enjoy the outdoor time and they will probably whine about forced labor. But I expect that he will choose a home with trees, because I have also attempted to pass on a love for beauty in my children.

However, if you don’t get around to it yet, actually you can plant bulbs for as long as you can work the soil. So assuming we don’t get weeks of below freezing, unlikely this time of year, you can plant bulbs sometime in the next month. I remember one year when I put the turkey in the oven on Thanksgiving day, then ran outside to plant a few dozen daffodils.

Along with bulb planting, off-season is a great time to get big projects accomplished. Today I signed a contract for a new ornamental iron fence in the front yard, to replace the decades-old chain link fence. I’ll be trimming back honeysuckle and roses this weekend, as they are likely to demo the old fence next week. Another advantage of off-season, is that workers are available. And I don’t have to worry about my plantings getting trampled, as they are dying back anyway. I’ll take picture of progress and report on it here, of course.

Other than a definite cosmetic improvement for the front yard, the new fence will change my philosophy of planting. I have spent the 15 years that we’ve lived in this house planting to cover up the fence. Now I can spend the winter thinking about planting that uses the fence as a backdrop but doesn’t necessarily cover it up. I’ll probably still let some honeysuckle grow back over the fence, but I am looking forward to getting rid of all the old dead vines that have built up over the years. Hmmm — dreaming about what I want more of in  my front yard … lavender, coneflower or more roses? It’s great to have some new plans to mull over during the winter.

Beyond the fictional garden behind the walls in The Secret Garden, there are other walled gardens that offer places of either contemplation or privilege. This past weekend, we attended a wedding in Santa Barbara. Before we headed to the airport on Sunday, we went to the Mission Santa Barbara. Within the walls of the mission, the garden is a place for contemplation for the Franciscan brothers and for others who attend retreats at the mission. I can certainly understand the contemplative space of a garden, because my heart and mind are more at peace when I am outdoors in a quiet, beautiful place. I longed to stretch out on the grass and gaze at the sky, but only one sidewalk of the garden area was open for the public. I didn’t want to disrupt the sacred space, so I obeyed the rules and didn’t venture out into the center of the garden.

Enclosed garden at Mission Santa Barbara

At the other end of the spectrum, some palaces in Europe have private walled gardens. One such garden is at Palais Royal in Paris. The palace was originally called Palais-Cardinal and was the personal residence of Cardinal Richelieu. While he may have used the private garden space for contemplation, my impression of his religious fervor from my history lessons is that he was more interested in power than God, so his garden contemplation likely centered on establishing his own power base, not revering God’s power. Even beautiful places where God’s creative ability is evident are subject to corruption by our selfish human nature. All the more reason to continue to seek beauty and find places where we can draw near to God, in a reverential way, and have a right view of our place in the world.

Jardin de Palais Royal, Paris