Blankets of straw

It is time to mulch the garlic with straw. I planted it late, mid-Novemebr almost, but I know it will be there come spring, and in July the scapes will rise from the ground again, first straining straight up, then relaxing a little into curls, coiling like garden hoses or snakes charmed out of their baskets by the sound of a flute.

The straw keeps the bulbs warm over the winter, as they lie seemingly dormant a few inches below the surface. In truth, they are very much alive, sleeping perhaps, but gathering strength for the work to be done in the new year.

In general, it seems a mistake to consider the winter months a time when nothing is happening in nature. Everything is happening. Spring leaves and flowers are only the final result of all the preparation that goes on under the snow. It feels appropriate that the Jewish New Year should begin in the fall, when the second cut hay is brought in, when the vegetables are ripe, and the maple trees stand like torches in the field, for it is not a time of endings, but a time of beginnings.

Beginnings need quiet, not too much commotion or business or colour. It takes concentration, a looking-inward, self-reflection, Growth is not easy. This is true for plants, and perhaps for humans too. What time of year are great thoughts or projects born? When do change the most, make new commitments, knit new dreams to bear fruit when the earth is warm again?

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