In winter, the ground settles.
There’s nothing holding the soil up anymore — roots loosen, last season’s weeds decompose.
The ground?
It settles.
I’m noticing that I’m settling too.
Instead of feeling like I’m gripping our winter to-do list with white knuckles I’m gently observing the needs of the trees.
We have apple trees, blueberry bushes, and rose bushes that all could use a winter pruning.
After living here 5 years though? It’s the first year I looked out the window and thought “oh those roses could use a winter hair cut”
The blueberry bushes? I trimmed them on a warm December afternoon chasing the kids around the backyard. My hand trimmers were inside my garden mailbox and I just chopped and dropped before the toddler ran back up to the house.
And the apple trees? I watched them drop their leaves and I made the choice to say to myself – it’s not a good weekend for our family to cut these yet.
As I drove by the trees in sub zero temperatures and deep snow all around? I thought “I see this need and it’s not time right now.”
No urgency.
No stress.
Gentle reminders to myself.
I noticed the need with the calm of winter.
Spring and summer shout their NEEDS from the tree tops (sometimes literally – I’m thinking of you crows).
But winter?
It’s the quiet observer, holding space for a season yet to come.
Lessons That Only Settle Over Time
Our experiences, especially our failures and “lessons learned,” shape how we view these winter observations.
We’ve trimmed our apple trees too much and when the trees woke up with a short haircut some have revolted and produced no apples even though they had buds.
We’ve had years where we just didn’t get to trimming them at all.
We made choices that focused on our family’s real needs.
Not completing a task felt like a huge let down, it was intense, and frustrating in that season – but now? I know it didn’t break us. It didn’t harm the trees. The apples grew and the seasons continued.
There’s head knowledge and a knowing that I can feel deep in my soul that this season will be fruitful whether it goes to plan… or not.
I’m feeling like I’ve settled into a place of knowing the plans and accepting the changes that may come our way.
I’m thankful that over the years I’ve let the lessons settle me into a quieter, less rushed plant keeper.
You don’t have to act on it yet. Just notice.
So what is winter telling you quietly that spring and summer shout?
Let me know I’d love to hear! -> email hello@fencepostflowerfarm.com
With Grit and Gratitude,
Laura
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