A spring birth comes with dangers for seedlings. Rain may fall with gentle nourishment or cold may come suddenly, like a bomb, with ash-frost scattered across the throats and young limbs of green seedlings coming up for their first air. When protected with a cover, they catch their breath and reach for the sky unabated. As with most precious things, shelter is needed to thrive.
The reckless heat of summer brings its own hazards as plants reach a gangly adolescence. Left unattended, tomato plants will con their way sideways: the weight of new growth pulled down to be soiled. With sturdy wire boundaries around them, their fruit ripens safely in clean air. As with most unruly things, support enables health.
When autumn comes around to interject with chill, flowers cave in and fruit is stitched away into pantries. Browned stalks are left exposed, prone to infection and wind. If pruned away, their roots are left unburdened to await the spring reincarnation. As with most beautiful things, there is a time to be unadorned.
With winter comes quiet. Nothing is needed but solitude as the garden awaits the return of spring, for winter is an invention born of the world’s need for slumber. As with all life, rest is key for future growth.