The darker half of the year is a time that historically filled me with heavy dread. I loathed and even feared the ending of vibrant life and the boring melancholy that winter seemed to tow around with it. My mind has now been changed, not by the thoughtful persuasion of a human, but by gardens. In the few gardens I have tended, while I’ve grown food, herbs and flowers in them, without my noticing they busied away, growing a new relationship with the world in me. There is now a peace that comes with the darkness, almost a relief, and the firm trust that winter makes way for the beauty of spring. The same cosy, calm acceptance that accompanies sleep comes to me as winter creeps in. I watch the apple trees at the end of the garden lose their leaves, their limbs dancing in the wind, now naked and free. There is a liberation in how they strip bare in defiance of winter. In their nudity they will survive the cold. Drawing their energy down and into their roots, the trees go into a sort of hibernation to wait out the winter months. Come spring, the sap will rise up again. The tree’s energy moving up and out will burst into blossoms and fresh young leaves. Trees in winter may look dead on first glance, but on closer inspection are not at all. These days, rather than watching the trees being stripped of their leaves and deadened by the cruel cold winter, I look on in wonder as they perform a marvellous metamorphosis, an incredible feat of resilience that carries them through winter and culminates in soft blossoms in spring and summer’s sweet fruits. This seasonal senescence supports new life. The apple trees’ shaken-off leaves provide a blanket of shelter for hedgehogs and toads and harbour food for them, too. As the leaves decay they feed the soil food web, from earthworms to centipedes, bacteria and fungi. This habitat below our feet is now believed to be one of the most species-rich ecosystems on earth. The network of life protected and fed by the decaying leaves allows the trees to grow and thrive. The worms draw the decaying carbon down into the earth’s depths, improving the qualities of the soil, its ability to hold water and nutrients, its resilience to drought and compaction. While, through mutually beneficial relationships of exchange, the bacteria and fungi, flourishing in this world of earthy decay, will pass the plants essential nutrients and information in return for sugars and lipids. By giving their leaves to the ground the apple trees receive gifts in turn. In early spring, before the trees come back into full leaf, wild garlic, crocuses, daffodils and snowdrops will carpet the floor, bursting through the decaying leaf litter to take advantage of the soft spring sunshine dancing through the naked branches. The trees’ rest gives space and opportunity for them to bloom, too. Knowing this, I watch their leaves flutter to the ground and I smile, thinking of all the life they are making room for. The deep cold that accompanies winter has unexpected benefits, too. Freezes help to manage pests, pausing their breeding cycles, killing a fair few in the process. Trees that lose their leaves in winter, and undergo prolonged cold, reset the ecosystem in their branches. Many pesky dependents are killed off by the lack of cover and food supplied by the trees blossoms, flowing sap and leaves. The cold of winter is like “turning it off and on again”. It can restore health and balance. A mild winter on the other hand can welcome hordes of slugs and snails. Many fruit and nut trees, from apples to pears, plums, cherries, hazelnuts, walnuts and more, require a rest period of cold to produce their crop. The cold followed by gradual warming in spring triggers their flowers (and catkins in the case of the nut trees) to burst. Without this, blossoms can fail to open, unopened blooms can’t be pollinated, unpollinated flowers give no fruit. Unusual weather patterns, the type brought on by climate change, alter the pattern of the cold rest followed by the warm, leading flowers to bloom too early or too late. This can make them susceptible to frost damage and cause the flowers to emerge out of sync with the creatures that both pollinate them and depend on them for forage. Timely winter rest is essential for the abundance of summer and spring. The gardens I have grown in have shown me the rhythms of the non-human world to which we humans are connected to and utterly dependent on, despite it being easy to pretend otherwise when we can retreat into our cosy, bright homes even on the darkest and coldest of winter days (a luxury I am eternally grateful to be able to enjoy, might I add!) They have shown me that it is not possible to live in the eternal growth of summer, despite dominant global financial models trying to persuade us otherwise. All living systems that support life require endings and rest to continue the cycle of sustenance. Facing this reality can leave us feeling uneasy, fearful, even leading us to despair. But I think our culture does us a disservice in encouraging us to avoid this truth. Since autumn leaves, the resilience of trees and winter chills taught me the unavoidable necessity of cycles, it’s impossible not to notice the magic in the quiet times and in the decay that brings forth new life. Three jobs to do this winter How to make the best use of the season of reset and recovery Plant bare-root perennials Bare-root plants are deciduous, woody perennials that have been lifted from the earth when they are dormant between autumn and early spring. They are sold to us without any soil on their roots. Planting bare-root perennials works with the seasons, they are watered by the winter rains and can find their feet a bit before spring and summer come along. Pots and compost are not necessary, which saves valuable resources. Bare-root perennials can be planted all through winter right up until early spring. To plant, just slip them into the soil up to the previous soil line (which you can spot on the stem), firm in and water. If you can’t plant right away, keep them in a bucket of water or slip them into a temporary spot. Plant your bulbs Spring bulbs are usually planted in autumn, but if you’re like me, you will have several bags of them hanging around that you never got around to. It’s not too late to get them in the ground. If you don’t plant them now, they definitely won’t come up; if you do they might – even if a little late. Harvest water Harvesting water for use in the garden is now more important than ever, with more extreme weather patterns from flooding to drought putting increased pressure on our municipal water systems. The treatment of water to make it drinkable is energy-intensive. Catching and storing water in our gardens reduces their dependance on this valuable resource (the garden prefers rain water anyway), while helping to reduce pressure on our drainage systems in heavy rains. Water butts or tanks are great, but even barrels or buckets set up without a downpipe can catch lots of water through winter. Ponds (no matter how small) are another excellent way to harvest water in our spaces and are one of the best things we can do for wildlife.