10-02-2021 Winter grower, embrace your own season
It was full. Very full in my garden this summer. The battle for light produced long stems. Just like beautiful flowers in all kinds of colors and lots of bees and bumblebees. The periwinkle I'd planted in the spring faded away in the shade of the splendor of color above her. Every now and then a small purple flower appeared, but the plant was not striking. She already let it go.
The beech hedge gradually turned brown. The annual summer bloomers and perennials are now shriveled in their last phase on the earth. On a sunny day I am sitting in the garden with a scarf and a thick cardigan and a cup of tea. It strikes me how the green wisps of the Periwinkle have spread through my garden. Like a web of green light, they find each other and cover the earth. Enthusiastically, several stems creep up onto the tiles even outside the garden boundary. Closer, I discover that each strand is full of new life. Fresh green and proud the leaves rise. The roots on the long stem look like centipede legs. I smile.
These stems are my only green item in the garden. And there on my bench in the middle of winter I feel my connection with this special plant. She is a winter and spring bloomer. Like me. From June to at least the end of August, almost nothing new comes out of my hands. I always thought it was because my son is on vacation, but this year I realized by keeping a journal that it has always been in me. For a long time I felt lazy and pushed myself to persevere. To produce, to come up with ideas, to create new work. But it was always a struggle. The heat doesn't always help either, because I can't handle heat quite well and burns very quickly. That's why I don't spend summer days on the beach, but just in the shade. I literally come to a halt and last year I finally surrendered to that relaxed feeling. I watched the bumblebees feed on the large amount of flowers and spent a lot of time on self-care and meditation. I slowed down. My creative flow had receded to an inconspicuous well in the shadows. Just like the Periwinkle.
In the autumn it slowly started to flow again, but it is precisely during the short gray gray days that I fully gain steam. Winters are for me to create, to grow, to take steps, to work out ideas. I feel like Periwinkle consciously going in all directions. Creating a green blanket to show the outside world my most beautiful flowers in the spring and then retreat.
Much attention is paid to going dormant in the winter, just like most trees and plants. I never really understood that, because right now I'm bursting with energy. But after seeing Periwinkle growth I realized I am a Winter Grower. And that everyone has their own seasonal cycle. Because of that variety of seasons we keep each other in balance. Just like nature.
And all I have to do is surrender to the cycle within myself. I'm finally at peace with it.