“Without going outside his door, one understands (all that takes place) under the sky; without looking out from his window, one sees the Tao of Heaven. The farther that one goes out (from himself), the less he knows. Therefore the sages got their knowledge without traveling; gave their (right) names to things without seeing them; and accomplished their ends without any purpose of doing so.”
Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu (translation by J. Legge)
If one were ever to have a philosophical bent, January provides the inspiration. Ram Dass’s most famous book title, Be Here Now, becomes an insistent mantra in my head as I sit in my comfortable chair in front of the fire with a good book or needlework in my hands. And a cup of something warm nearby, of course. The truth is, I don’t want to be anywhere else, at the moment.
Camellia seeds sprouting on the kitchen counter, Begonias dropping petals in the living room, and stems rooting in a vase in the office allow my ‘gardening’ to continue, mostly out of the biting wind. I scratch my gardening itch by drawing a jug of warm tap water for the plants huddling indoors with us until spring. If I’m feeling particularly generous, then a scant sprinkle of orchid food goes into the jug, too.
I did venture outside on a sunny day last week to water potted trees on the deck. Only two had been knocked over by a squirrel this time. I set things right as quickly as I could and scurried back inside. I am practicing the Taoist approach of ‘wu wei’ this winter, particularly during this cold snap. I am trying to ‘let things be’ and interfere in their natural process as little as possible.
“So, the sage acts by doing nothing, Teaches without speaking, Attends all things without making claim on them, Works for them without making them dependent, Demands no honor for his deed. Because he demands no honor, He will never be dishonored.”
Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu, Ch. 2, Translation by Stefan Stenudd
We watch the birds come to drink and bathe through one set of windows, and watch for squirrels to try and jump onto the deck through another. My kitchen window gives a wonderful view of bare trees swaying in the winter wind, perhaps also shaking from squirrels chasing one another up and down their trunks.
It has been cold enough here this week that even a quick trip up to the mailbox demands an extra layer or two of warmth, plus hat and heavy shoes. Each day I consider whether to make the effort to plant some of those bulbs still waiting in the basement, and decide to wait for a better day. Now we have a winter storm bearing down on us today, but here it should arrive as wind and rain, not wind and ice or snow. I’ve read about the terrible flooding in Britain and Europe, and my heart goes out to all gardeners in difficult weather circumstances this winter.
But I did get some photos on a bright day in late December, when I was working on an article about winter gardening in our area. I’m afraid that I missed last week’s Six on Saturday while working on that instead. Since we are at the point in the gardening year when change comes very slowly, I will offer up a few of those photos, now just a few days old.
The philosophical approach also happens to be a good approach for wildlife, when it comes to leaving things alone this time of year. I cut a few spent blossoms from the Oakleaf Hydrangeas yesterday, and tucked them into the remains of a Christmas wreath I made last month. The birds are happy to have the blowing leaves and perennial seeds still standing as they search for food.
The Camellias continue blooming even as the Arum keeps sending up new leaves. I’ve noticed a few buds on the Hellebores, which will bloom before the end of January. They need the rain, but nothing from me, at this point. Like the parents of a college freshman, January leaves a gardener looking around for something to do; or to not do. It is a lovely, peaceful time of year. We can give ourselves permission to simply accept whatever is happening in the garden, find some beauty in it, and leave it be.
With appreciation to Jim Stephens of Garden Ruminations, who hosts Six on Saturday each week.
Our Forest Garden 
Good thoughts to have on these philosophical approaches. Meditations on their way
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hope you are well, Fred. Happy 2024!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Peace to you. In the Hippocratic oath, primum non nocere (first of all, do not harm).
LikeLike
Exactly. Peace to you as well, and best wishes for your happiness in 2024.
LikeLike
A philosophical start to the year is always good. I am looking to the future, thinking about what I’d like to try, and wondering how nature will use the seeds I have scattered to paint my garden beautiful, at least to my eyes. I had a friend who could not see beauty in a garden unless it was topiaried to within an inch of its life, everything with hard edges, clear boundaries. I am much more laissez-faire, and find beauty in the unexpected, like Jim’s surprise camelia shoots. Like the new england asters that came up in my garden from random seed collected and scattered. How could I ever do better than nature?
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a lovely approach. I love Richard Darke and Ken Druse’s books on gardening because they are so inspiring and show ways to help curate a ‘natural’ garden that is always changing- for the better, one hopes. As they say, ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.’ So a person who walks in beauty will naturally cultivate beauty around them. Happiness to you in 2024!
LikeLike
Sitting and waiting seems like a good idea, We were heavily hit by high winds this week with plenty of trees toppling all around (none in our garden luckily).
LikeLiked by 1 person
Leave it be?! I can not do that. We got just enough frost to make things shabby, but not enough to knock them down. Also, the wind dislodges too much old foliage from the redwoods. The gingers are icky, but still green within. I suspect that I will need to dig and cut them regardless. I know that is how it is done near Los Angeles.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Tony, you are a total professional. In a public landscape it is much harder to ‘leave it be’ than here in our woodlands. Yes, the herbaceous ginger stems get icky after a hard freeze, but you don’t need to dig them. Just cut the stem off with a few inches left above the ‘bulb.’ What is left will continue to weather, but will also protect the bulbs from the cold. They should be mulched. I am grinning as I read your comment because the wind did so much damage to our remaining Hydrangea flowers (in the photo) that I had to cut them off on Friday. They were hanging down by just a strip of bark. The wind does a lot of damage, but it is also cleansing, helping prepare the garden for new growth in the coming weeks. Are you having a particularly wet winter for your area?
LikeLiked by 1 person
No, the rain is about typical. It just seems excessive to me because it is more than I got at home, which was about twice what I got in the old neighborhood. That is how rain shadows work here. I am accustomed to getting about a foot of rain annually within a chaparral climate. The Santa Ana Winds are rather strong in the Los Angeles region right now, but that is hundreds of miles away.
Our landscapes merge into the surrounding forests, so we can get away with leaving quite a bit of it in a natural state. I just do not like doing so. The simplicity of the landscapes is less accommodating of their (perceived) shabbiness.
I am not concerned about the gingers that are still here in the nursery because they are not out where anyone can see them. I just want them to be more dormant before I send them. They have not frosted yet. Only their foliage is shabby. I suspect that I will just send them with a bit of their canes remaining. I do not mulch those that live in the landscapes. I do not remember how they were groomed in Southern California because I only knew them while foliated. I remember an old and large colony of ‘Portland’ canna in Will Rogers Memorial Park that the gardeners would not cut down. They somehow groomed out the old canes as they were replaced by new canes late in winter. That seemed like too much work! I would have waited until the very end of winter, and cut it all to the ground. It grows so fast. Sadly, that old colony was removed when the Park was renovated.
LikeLiked by 1 person