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After our unusually long and cold winter, we’ve been concerned about which plants survived and which plants didn’t. We’ve been making the rounds of the garden for weeks now looking for signs of life from plants which normally survive winter here just fine, but have not yet leafed out this spring.
There is an ancient Jasmine vine which has grown along the railing by our kitchen door for decades. Much of it died back over the winter of 2014, but somehow came back with new growth by last summer. Blooms were scarce, but it survived. We are still watching for signs of life from that Jasmine vine this spring; watching for a single green leaf to show us it is still alive.
Our potted Hydrangeas suffered as well. I believe they began to bud too early and were hit by a late freeze. I check every few days for a sign of new growth from the roots.
One thing the garden teaches us is that dormant is not dead. Many plants simply need a rest to gather their strength to grow again.
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Deciduous trees rest from autumn until earliest spring, when their buds swell and eventually open into new leaves. We learn their rhythm early on in life, if we live in a region which has winter, and trust the process.
But what happens when things don’t go as expected? What happens when it takes weeks longer than we think it might for those first leaves to show?
Most years our figs are quite leafed out by now. But they have taken a hit of cold for two winters running. Huge old trees have stood starkly naked all through spring and into this stretch of early summer heat.
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And now one by one, we are finding signs of life. For some, new shoots are appearing directly from the roots. Others have budded on trunks and branches, tiny leaves finally emerging into the warmth of May.
There are two potted fig trees, one on the front patio and the other on the back deck, still giving us no sign of life. I’m still hopeful that one day soon we’ll see those first leaves appear.
After all, dormant is not dead.
Life goes deep within the tissues of a plant sometimes, into its rhizome or seed; into its deep roots while everything green and growing withers away. We have to know these cycles and work with them.
Cyclamen die back in spring to rest for the summer. They will sprout again in autumn to give flowers through many more winters to come.
Begonias and Caladiums may do the same in autumn, taking a winter rest before springing back to life with a single leaf to herald their awakening.
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This favorite Rex Begonia had leafed out from a bare rhizome again in this photo taken last June. It has gone dormant on me many times over the years, and I’m waiting for new leaves to appear on it now. It died back in the house in early spring, but I trust it will spring to life again soon.
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Sometimes we need to do the same thing. Going dormant for a while can do us a lot of good. We give ourselves a chance to rest and rejuvenate. When we’re ready to get back in the game, we are somehow richer and stronger. We’ve taken quiet time to brood and plan.
We need, sometimes, to think about what is most important to us, and to re-define our priorities. We can’t just keep going on forever at full steam, like a perpetual motion machine.
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Native ferns just awakening from their winter dormancy.
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Because we are alive, our life is governed by the rhythms of nature. We have our own rhythms, too; of breathing and sleep, activity and rest.
Several blogging friends have touched on this issue, lately. They are long time writers who have expressed their need for time away… time for a rest. I respect them so much for listening to their own hearts and taking the break they need.
Writing is a very peculiar pursuit. Those of us who feel compelled to write each day do so because WE need to do it. We all have a purpose and some message we need to share.
We don’t write for our audience so much as we write for ourselves, and hope someone else finds what we write useful or amusing, instructive or thought provoking.
We all know when we’ve written enough for a while, and need to take some quiet time to rejuvenate our creative spark before speaking up again. And that is simply the nature of things.
And no, I’m not saying this to preface an announcement of my own; only to say to my blogging friends who need that break, that I understand your point of view. And to remind you: Dormant is not dead.
We know you are still very much alive, and hope that one day soon you’ll feel like it is time to grow active once again. We miss the beauty you bring to the world.
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The last bloom on the clump of Iris Barbara brought me last May. We have enjoyed them enormously this spring!
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Barbara, at Silver in the Barn, invited me to join the Five Photos Five Stories challenge, and this is my second post in the series.
This is a simple challenge: To participate, you simply post a photo each day for five consecutive days, and tell a story about each photo. The story can be truth or fiction, poetry or prose. Each day one must also nominate a fellow blogger to participate in the challenge.
And today, I am inviting another Virginia blogger, Dor, of Virginia Views, to join the challenge. Dor tells wonderful stories about her life in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia on her blog, and I know she will have a few hilarious tales to tell for this challenge. I enjoy her point of view, and hope she will play along with Barbara and me.
In fact I hope you will visit both Dor and Barbara, both of whom are very entertaining and generous story tellers.
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These Foxgloves looked so frost-bitten in March I thought they might be dead. Just look at them now! And yes, the Canna Lilies survived, the winter, too!
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The moral of the this story today is that we will gain a lot through patience and perseverance…. both with plants and with people.
When we keep the faith that spring will come to each of us in our own time, life rewards us with abundance.
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Forest Garden 