This afternoon I went into the garden for an hour or so. Although it seemed a strange thing to do on Christmas Eve the present wrapping is all done and vegetable preparation can wait until this evening. There will only be the 3 of us tomorrow, Martin will be cooking (venison) and everything is just holding its breath as we listen to carols, debate whether to go out to midnight mass and wait for the morning.
So as the weather was mild and not raining and I actually had some energy, I thought I’d put on my boots and gloves and clear some of the wet leaves off the beds. They’ve all been lying there mixed up with thousands of sycamore seeds through all the recent rain and a sodden mess isn’t a pleasant sight. The remains of plants were sticking up forlornly at intervals and the concerned gardener in me rose to the fore – between the drought and heat of the summer and the recent freeze some are surely dead, but its not easy to be sure – is there anything I can do to save them before its too late?! And surely, being so mild, there are already some bulbs coming up underneath that need light?
The giant protected sycamore tree that overshadows our garden is a blessing and a curse. I am in a war of attrition with its biological imperative to reproduce itself! Fallen seeds dominate the lawn, beds, pots, between the concrete slabs and mixed with the gravel from late summer into spring. I know however many I pick up I cannot win – they are a marvel of engineering, little helicopters flying into every crevice and crack, hiding under plants, digging themselves into the earth in groups in the hope that one will germinate. But who needs two giant sycamore trees in one garden?! Those that begin to sprout have to be mown down or pulled out – usually just in time for the next lot to scatter as soon as they’re formed in the late spring winds. My gardening revolves around this endless battle. This year I’ve been trying to ignore them between purges – despite having the tree cut back there seem more than ever!
The life-cycle of a deciduous leaf must be one of the best markers of the change of the seasons. As I raked the soggy piles together and lifted them into the bin (I don’t want leaf mould filled with potential sycamore saplings!) I was throwing away the remains of the year’s growth, marking winter and the time of rest for the tree. These were all as useless now as ashes after a fire – their work done in the summer months changing carbon dioxide and water into food for the plant and oxygen for us. Remember photosynthesisfrom school biology?!
It is the tree’s year end, time to rest, leaves no longer required. Yet already here are the first shoots from the spring bulbs – a sign of hope of the new season coming, bringing a smile to my face! I just hope they don’t get frozen and killed over the coming winter…
And I’m looking back over a year which feels full of being tired and ill: no wonder I christened it ‘the year ZOZZ’! I haven’t checked the calendar yet, though I will before next week, but I remember being so tired in Lanzarote in February I couldn’t walk far on the beach and spent most of the time lying down and so tired after our visit to Sicily in May to visit all our Sicilian friends that it felt overwhelming. I suffered with low mood a lot this year, even while away in Brittany by the sea. We went across twice with a month back here in between, and the backwards and forwards was exhausting too: won’t do that again, won’t go in August – even after all this time we’re still learning what works! Also the old car kept breaking down in France, which added to the stress. I also remember having Covid at some point and fatigue afterwards, multiple urine infections (February, October, November) and my fall in September that tore the muscle in my shoulder which ached mightily until just a few weeks ago. I have felt old.
There are, thankfully, some stand-out events that I hope I will also remember when looking back on 2022 – Ash & Soot growing up from tiny kittens to big cats, proving so loveable and perfect for us. My 65th birthday party in the garden on a perfect July Saturday with so many very special friends – I felt so happy and loved that day. The miraculous new car we have leased that has made all driving and certainly long-distance travelling so much easier – even if we still need to learn to stop trying to fit too much into the times away! And the best holiday in the world ever (BHITWE in Dyer-speak) for our 40th wedding anniversary in the Isles of Scilly. I am more than grateful for these blessings.
But as for the rest, I don’t want to continue in this tired/ill/depressed vein. I want to prioritise my health and be more careful with the limited energy one seems to have naturally in one’s 60’s. I need to let go of so many calls on my time, because not everything depends on me and its OK to cancel things too. I must get back to strengthening exercises – walking and swimming – so my body doesn’t collapse before its time – plus make an effort to lose that extra stone I’ve gained this year.
But those are all a matter for the New Year, for the time of sap rising, buds breaking out and daffodils opening. For now its just time to clear away the leaves, make space and light to begin to grow again, and rest out the winter in gratitude. Although my new shoots are surrounded by unwanted seeds I do have the ability to differentiate and to choose wisdom. I’m ready to begin again.
Meanwhile at the darkest time of the year there is good news of light and hope. The baby of Bethlehem has brought God to us and us to God so we can never suffer alone. Jesus is worth following out of this year and into the next.
Heart Space 