| This morning, the garden felt caught in the middle. Not quite winter-as-usual, not quite moving on either. Just… paused. Maintenance at the moment feels a bit like limbo land. Unless a job is a specific project — a clearance, a tidy with a clear purpose — most of what we’re doing is quiet preparation. Beds are being gently opened up, soil loosened where possible, and old growth cut back without fuss. Nothing dramatic. Just getting things ready for when the garden decides it’s time to move again. A lot of the UK woke up under snow today, but down here in Sandwich, it’s been different. We had that sharp, arctic cold without the drama of white ground. Instead, last night brought bitter, biting rain — the kind that works its way through everything — and then, just as quickly, it froze. Paths glazed over, soil sealed shut, plants locked in place. Not dead, not dormant exactly. Just holding. It’s funny how weather like this changes how you work. You stop pushing. You stop trying to “get ahead.” You accept that now isn’t about progress in the way people usually mean it. It’s about readiness. There’s a lot of easy maintenance happening right now. Sweeping, light pruning, keeping things safe and tidy without disturbing what doesn’t need disturbing. You can feel the garden saying, not yet. And for once, listening feels like the right thing to do. Winter gardening often gets misunderstood. People expect action — visible change — but this season doesn’t really offer that. What it offers is time. Time for the soil to settle. Time for plants to conserve energy. Time for us to notice what’s actually there when colour and growth step back. This is the season where good gardening looks like restraint. Knowing when to stop. Knowing when “doing nothing” is actually doing the most helpful thing possible. Standing out there this morning, with the ground frozen solid and the air still sharp, it felt clear that spring doesn’t need chasing. It’s already planned. All we’re doing now is quietly clearing the way for it. And that feels enough for today. |
The Value of What Looks Like Nothing
Earthly Comforts 