Over ten years ago we bought a planter box from the Little Veggie Patch Co. for our small front courtyard. It was a converted apple crate, lined with plastic and filled with soil. It's hosted an array of produce. Some more successful than others. Root vegetables struggled in our composted soil filled with small twigs. While leafy greens and herbs were always winners. Tomato plants were a gamble depending on the amount of sunshine, but sometimes self seeded tomato plants which grew from our compost were hardy and abundant in fruit. We've battled an onslaught of snails which found homes inside the plastic lining, and aphids which decimated kale or broccoli. But last year I left a couple of silverbeet plants as I discovered they were hosting ladybird larvae. My vegie patch was growing ladybirds! I've occassionally found tiny praying mantis too. Their tiny alien faces observing me and I watered.
However, the untreated wood was showing signs of weathering. We hammered some additional wood over the top of planks which were beginning to crumble. That held for another 12 months. But the wood is beginning to break around the middle. It was time to look for a replacement. While we searched, I left three plants in the patch. Some garlic chives, a chilli plant and the silverbeet, which is still hosting ladybirds. Every day as I step out the front door I see the rotting wood beginning to buckle under the weight of the soil. I look at the mostly empty planter. This has been fine over winter, but as spring is here I miss the feeling of replenishing and replanting. I look on sadly as our planter lies fallow.
I recently finished reading Caitlin Moran's book How to be hopeful. I was sceptical when I bought it, fearful it would be a pollyanna approach to surviving the oncoming apocolypse. I should have trusted Caitlin more. It's thoughtful and practical. Funny and honest. And one of the last ideas she touches upon is learning to love winter, a season she's always hated. After reading Katherine May's book Wintering, Caitlin shares a vital concept. Nothing in nature is productive 100% of the year. Winter is a time to be small. To rest. To be cosy and reserve energy for spring. It's not the season that is problematic, it's our attidude and expectations which are at odds with what nature is telling us. We needed to embrace the signs given to us.
After finishing Caitlin's book (which I highly recommend) I looked at our vegie patch differently. Even though spring is here, it needs to rest while we find a suitable new planter. And then I applied the same logic to myself. You see, I've been exhausted. For what seems like the last few years. I've been existing on caffeine and adrenaline. Urging myself out of bed each day to go to work or do weekend tasks. For the last 18 months I've been breathless. Walking up stairs I feel ancient. I've been trying to balance rest with doing things. Nice things for my brain and soul. Gigs. Galleries. Theatre. Cafe's. But I've also spent a lot of time with my doctor. Anyone playing along will know perimenopause gave me a complete kicking, physically and psychologically. But as other things came under control (mostly) the breathlessness and exhaustion remained. Two cardiologist, lots of tests, a CT scan, sleep test, lung test, two courses of antibiotics and numerous blood tests have not revealed anything apart from some kind of congestion or irritation in my lungs. I'm off to a respiratory specialist soon to attempt to figure out why I feel like crap.
And this is another reason my garden looks a bit neglected. Pots filled with plants battling for space with grass and weeds which have blown into the yard. Flowers needing deadheading, and fertiliser. My garden looks how I feel. Tired and shabby. But I haven't had the energy or motivation to care for it as I should. Then I thought, perhaps my health is a sign. I need a fallow season. I shouldn't stress about all the tasks I should be completing. I should see this as a time of rest. Rather than potter in the garden or go for walks in the sunshine, all I feel like doing is curling up on our bed and reading. If the concept of fallow farming is to allow the land time to rest and recover from prolonged produce, then maybe I need to do the same.
I've tried to be kind to myself. Achieve small things and not try to juggle multiple tasks. If work has been busy I have had gentle, quiet weekends. If we have life admin to do, I've focussed on one thing at a time rather than beat myself up for not getting to somethings quicker. And finally after over six months of thinking about it, I recently began small class personal pilates. The resting has made me stiff and feel weak. Slowly I am trying to find time for myself to build up my strength and become more flexible. Be kind to my body and try to help it as I age. It's still very early days but mentally I'm begginging to feel reconnected with my body, which I felt dissociatiated from during perimenopause.
I have found some new and very different vegie planters online. Two smaller ones with an inbuilt watering system and on wheels. This would be a significant upgrade to what we have and allow a different configuration of our courtyard. Maybe the fallow period has allowed me to research a different approach, changing things for a new way forward. Hopefully my own fallow season will allow for newness and change; flexibility and growth. Hopefully something different is coming.
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