I'm letting go of my garden

Just not yet

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Without further ado, today’s pocket.

Fall requires a lot of letting go. Some people seem to like this. They even find it comforting. I’m happy for those people. I’m not such a person. I started doing yoga so I could become such a person, but my mind wonders in shavasana. Last week, when my yoga instructor told the class to let go, I was thinking of radishes. By the time she was telling the class to be more aware of their surroundings and come back into the present space, I was fully back and wondering if I should cancel our winter vegetable share because, well, so many radishes.

The reason we probably get so many radishes in our winter share is because radishes can be harvested in a light frost. I should probably grow more radishes, I think, and then I remember that I kind of hate radishes. I like cucumbers, tomatoes, basil, and lots of other things that will not survive the frost. In fact, many of my hobbies are not frost friendly. Here are just a few.

1.      Biking to work (outside)

2.      Gardening (outside)

3.      Yoga in my garden (outside)

4.      Writing (outside)

5.      Reading (outside)

You might notice a pattern here.

I love the beginning of fall because I can still do all the things on my list. In fact, I can do them with more joy than I did in July and August because the temperatures have cooled, and it is more pleasant than ever. I would love it if our mid-October weather extended into January, but I can’t figure out how to control that, so I have to let go. I hate the end of fall because of this.

I have tried pretending letting go wasn’t required. One year, I clung to my bike handles and my hobbies and set out for work on an early November morning. I wore gloves, a hat, a warm winter jacket. I was cool, collected and totally crushing it, who says we can’t control things, until my bike tires hit black ice, and I hit the pavement.

I like to think that I’m capable of evolving. I want to learn how to be in shavasana without making a grocery list. I want to let go of this season without a full-on collision.

My bike will soon be put to rest for the winter, and not long after that, it will be time to put the garden to bed, but I’m not giving up on my garden yet because it is one of the loves of my life and because I am stubborn. My mom recently told me that my niece is not pooping on the potty. “She’s stubborn,” my mom said. I already love my niece unconditionally, but I admit I was impressed. I understand her choice, to sit in her own discomfort rather than change.  

Here in Spokane, it feels like fall gardening isn’t even a thing. We have a short growing season, and our mountain climate causes dramatic drops in the morning and evening temperatures. This causes problems for my fingers and toes when I’m biking, and it also causes problems for my tomatoes. I harvested gorgeous tomatoes this week, plump red ones and juicy tiny yellow ones, but that is probably the end of the tomato harvest. The rest will remain forever green. I will stop making weekly salsa, but I’m not ready to stop dancing altogether.

This sometimes causes my neighbors to look at me funny. I haven’t yet purchased a head lamp for the early darkness, but I am often out in the garden with a flashlight. The other day as I was watering my native front flower garden, my neighbor walked by and gave me a look that implied, “So you’re still doing this?” I resisted my urge to spray him with the hose. Recently, I visited one of my favorite garden stores. At Northwest Seed and Pet, you can find pet food, plants, and Reese’s peanut butter cups all in one place. There is an outdoor garden section with a small pond and fountain. It is so peaceful to listen to the gurgling sounds of water as you pick out plants. I’m pretty sure their fountain is what inspired me to place fountains in my own garden, and I have never looked back. In the Spring, Northwest Seed and Pet is buzzing. It is packed with people waking up to brighter, longer, warmer days, thinking about what they will grow. In the fall, it is desolate. The outdoor garden center is empty save for me and a seventy-year-old woman, who feels like a kindred spirit. The fountain has been dissembled. There is no pleasant gurgling. Instead of many rows of plants and starts, there is one table of sad perennials. I have to scour the joint just to find a few pansies. As I walk the empty aisles deciding which perennials to take a risk on, I wonder if the rest of the world is just better at letting go.

But like my niece, I’m stubborn, so I decide that can’t be it. I think the reason that Northwest Seed and Pet looks like this in October is not because fall isn’t a good time for planting. In fact, Farmer Fred just wrote a post last week on how fall is an excellent time for planting. Granted, he lives in Sacramento County, CA, and it is currently 98 degrees there, so this might not really be a case of you say potato, I say puhtahto. Still, his advice is all I need to buoy my own beliefs about how there’s still time when it comes to gardening, and to give me the confidence necessary to share with you what fall in the garden looks like for me.

I feel like I’ve been pretty honest about my reliability as a narrator, so you might want to take my advice with a grain of salt, and by that I mean, you might not want to take my advice at all, but I’m going to share the few things I’m doing to hold onto one of the greatest loves in my life just a little longer.

1.      Plant Perennials. The bad news is it is harder to find perennials in the fall, but the good news is that if you can find them, they are usually discounted. Don’t be too discouraged if they look a little rough. Most will bounce back with a little love and care, aka, be willing to keep watering when your neighbor looks at you and says, “So, you’re still doing this?”  The key thing to keep in mind here, and I stole this advice from Farmer Fred, is to get your perennials in the ground six weeks before the ground freezes. (Here’s a list of how to find native perennials in your area.)

2.      Let there be light. We have a small firepit in our garden that the kids and I built for something to do, a math lesson, during COVID. Fall is the perfect time for an outdoor fire. I also purchased a string of lights to give a little magic and romance to my garden in the growing darkness. Here I feel it’s important to note that many critters need full darkness to thrive, so if you live in a place where you can offer that to your wildlife friends, consider motion sensor lights. We live in a very urban space, so this is not really an issue, and I don’t run our lights all night, I just put them on when we are out in the garden.

3.      Check out the birds. My sunflowers are definitely letting go. Their stalks are yellow. Their leaves are brown, and most of them are swaying sideways these days. While the blooms are few and far between, the seeds are plentiful, and the birds love them. The fall can be a great time to watch migrating birds. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with the goldfinches this season.

Photo by Patrick Donnelly on Unsplash

4.      Bring in the fall color. As the sunflowers and some of my other favorite flowers are receding, and as many of my beautiful blooms won’t survive the frost, I’m adding some color to my garden with hardy mums and pansies. I also keep deadheading my snap dragons as these fierce beauties will also survive the frost. I like to extend the flower season as long as possible so I plant snapdragons and pansies in the spring as soon as I can find them and the ground is workable. The snapdragons will reseed themselves, and if you keep clipping them, they will branch out and spread. Pansies are cheap and gorgeous, and I added a few this fall just for a little more color. I find that the Trader Joe’s has great prices on mums, and my secret this year has been keeping them in the containers I buy them in and just setting them down. I don’t have as much time in fall as I do in the summer, and this has been a lovely, easy way to add color into my garden.

5.      Planting seeds. It may sound strange, but fall is my favorite time to plant seeds. Not vegetable seeds, those I’ll start in the Spring, but wildflower seeds, sunflowers and oriental poppies. The sunflowers seeds I plant in the fall are the first to appear in the Spring, and they are usually heartier than the flowers from seeds I planted in the spring. I usually spread sunflowers where I want them to grow, but often the goldfinches and other bird friends as well as Monty the squirrel will spread them around for me too, and in the spring, my garden will be full of surprises. If you buy a wildflower mix, try and find one that is native for your area. The seeds will do better and you will be giving back to your birds and butterflies. The same rules that apply for perennials apply for seeds. You want to wait till the ground has cooled to about 60 degrees, but you want to get them in well before the ground freezes. Here in Spokane, October is pretty much perfect for this.

6.      Bulbs. Fall is the time to plant tulips, daffodils and iris. I love planting bulbs in the fall because in the Spring I can never remember what I planted, and every day is full of surprises. Seeing Spring bulbs pop up brings me the joy I felt as I child when I hunted for Easter eggs. One tip for bulbs is to get the ground ready (a mix of compost and good soil and good tilling with the shovel will help.) Map out a plan for where you will plant before popping the bulbs in. When I try to do it all in one go, I find myself a little tired and hasty and not as careful with the bulbs as I could be especially when my neighbor stops by and questions my life choices.

7.      Garlic. Need I say more. Plant it. Check out this past pocket if you want more garlic specific info.

8.      Fortify the soil. In winter it may not seem like much is happening, but lots can be happening underground. This is a beautiful metaphor for the slow seasons of our life. Take care of your soil. Notice where it needs to be enriched, where things didn’t really grow. Add some compost, or consider making a worm bin. My friend gifted me a warm bin last year, and I credit this gift to all the beautiful pumpkins I have this year. Aren’t they glorious? Pay attention to your worms if you go this route. If it gets really cold, like it sometimes does here, the worms will need to come inside. This is how you know your husband really loves you.

9.      Reflect.  The other day I discovered a note I had written in my phone with the word Michelle on it. I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I had written that note. Michelle is one of my best friends. We’ve been friends since 6^th grade. Was I trying to contact her? “Michelle” is also the name of a song I really like by Tish Melton. Was I wanting to share it with someone? It was a mystery. The mystery was solved a few weeks later when another memory triggered why I had written the note. It had to do with a piece of furniture we were donating. I need to be kinder to future Mary. Past Mary has a lot of faith in future Mary’s ability to remember things, but it turns out that all of future Mary’s energy is being spent scheming up how to outsmart the seasons, so she can’t be expected to remember simple details. So, this Mary has decided to help future Mary out by writing a few things down clearly, legibly and in a lucidish way (this is a word I made up today with 8^th graders, but I think it describes my attempts at lucidity quite well.) I’m going to take stock of what was successful about this year’s garden, what was worth trying again and what might need a little more work. I might even share it with Michelle, whoever the fuck she is.

10. Lean into what is. Let go of what is not. (Again, grain of salt.) Every year I have some plants that do remarkably well and some things I hoped would thrive but utterly failed. See my tiny unremarkable squash. I was going to include a photograph, but it was so tiny I didn’t even bother. Every year I have surprises that surpass my expectations and amaze me. See pumpkins above. Every year the frost comes, and every year I somehow figure out what to do with myself. Trust.

Thank you for being here. I would love to continue this conversation in the comments. What resonates with you? Are you better than me at letting go, feel free to boast, or are you also creeping around your garden with a flashlight?

Tomorrow is Indigenous People’s Day. I’m currently reading Living Resistance by Kaitlin B. Curtice, and it is shifting something in me. Today, I’m going to close with a poem that she wrote on letting go.

To the tender call of letting go,
I give not an answer
but a breath—
a steady in and out 
to admit and accept
that all that is required here
is presence and not sureness.
To the tender call of falling, 
I close my eyes
And open my hands,
Palms up,
Thoughts spanning
the fullness of living and breathing
the depths of everything
that lives and loves.
To the tender call of believing,
I claim not ideology but thisness—
the presence and heartbeat
of body, mind, 
and spirit
that always seek.
And to the tender call of embracing, 
I simply abandon,
strip bare,
forsake,
so that in all that is left
I am known and fully held
In what I do not know—
that the letting go,
the falling,
the believing, 
the embracing, 
is in itself all that living gives
from the sunrise to the sunset of every created day,
every created moment, 
every created opportunity,
a glimpse of presence and eternity
embodied in this body,
embodied in love.