Down to Sleep: The November Garden

Down to Sleep – by Helen Hunt Jackson

November woods are bare and still;
November days are clear and bright;
Each noon burns up the morning’s chill;
The morning’s snow is gone by night.
Each day my steps grow slow, grow light,
As through the woods I reverent creep,
Watching all things lie “down to sleep.”

I never knew before what beds,
Fragrant to smell, and soft to touch,
The forest sifts and shapes and spreads;
I never knew before how much
Of human sound there is in such
Low tones as through the forest sweep,
When all wild things lie “down to sleep.”

Each day I find new coverlids
Tucked in, and more sweet eyes shut tight;
Sometimes the viewless mother bids
Her ferns kneel down full in my sight;
I hear their chorus of “good-night”;
And half I smile, and half I weep,
Listening while they lie “down to sleep.”

November woods are bare and still;
November days are bright and good;
Life’s noon burns up life’s morning chill;
Life’s night rests feet which long have stood;
Some warm soft bed, in field or wood,
The mother will not fail to keep,
Where we can “lay us down to sleep.”

We spent last Saturday putting things to rest before winter.  It was an unseasonably warm day in the low 60’s – so warm, in fact that the new restaurant in the neighborhood, Crave, had its clear garage door windows rolled open to catch the last remnants of temperate weather.  Minnesotans have to take what they can get.

I don’t know how smug we should be about mulching leaves to protect perennial beds against the winter if we use gas-powered machinery to do it.  But since there is a prodigious amount of drop from the trees on the property, it seems right to chop them into useful cover.  There are still vivid bits of color remaining in the garden, though its beauty is more subtle now as it falls into slumber.

We try at the beginning of the season to plan for sequence in the garden.  When first blooms are spent, we want other plants to overtake them.  We also choose plants and shrubs for fall color, and even to stand out in winter whether it’s their shape or the color or texture of their stems.

We’ve worked on the woodpile to prepare for winter.  We’ve got a little more than 2-1/2 cords stacked by the house, as you can see here.  Last year, when there were indications of spiking costs for winter fuel, we decided to use the woodstove more.

Pete always had a cord of firewood, but used it primarily for ambience.  We knew we’d need more wood last year if we were going to press the stove into more meaningful service.  Fortunately, prices never skyrocketed like the “experts” had predicted.  We did, however, realize significant savings by employing the stove, which can heat the downstairs up to over 75 degrees F. in less than an hour.  Pete can bank the fire so that the house is toasty while we’re awake in the evening, and then cools off again while we’re sleeping.  I’m dressing a little bit warmer during the day, or building a fire if it gets chilly, now that I’m working from home.

Scouting Craigslist for free firewood sources is pretty easy as it’s quite abundant in the metro area, especially if you’re willing to cut it up and haul it.  People are always re-landscaping or trees are always blowing down.  Some of this wood is birch, which is a great burner.  We’ve got more that is curing in a secondary area, but that will need to be split before we trailer it up closer to the house next year.  This system works pretty well – we can take advantage of a great potential stash as we want. 

I love the patterns on these huge pieces of bark and wanted Pete to photograph them.  I was tempted to try and frame them as art, but they’ll suffice as art when shared with you just as well. 

I’ve surrounded my treasured rose in a leafy cylinder for protection.  To do this, I use plastic mesh fencing and just pour shovels full of leaves into it after I’ve closed it by threading a bamboo stake in the overlap.  This wasn’t quite the job when it was smaller as it is now.  This year the rose just went to town with hundreds of buds and blooms, and the canes became quite long.  Gathering it all together like this was a bit of a process, but it’s ready for any windy blizzard now.  I generally cut it back a bit in spring, and I think it likes to grow more because of that.  In this photo you can see some of the pods remaining on the Eastern redbud tree behind it, too.

Most of the days now have that watery light that reminds me of the paintings of the Old Masters, like Rembrandt and Vermeer.  This half-light is now waning by mid-afternoon and by 5:30 pm as I type this, it’s completely dark.  These are the times that try me.  I require more light than we get around these parts in late autumn.  There is over a month to go before the days start to grow longer.  I am always glad for the distractions that Thanksgiving and Christmas provide and we are really looking forward to entertaining and traveling this year.

Walking about the garden these days, I am still very much cheered by the colorful remnants that remain before the first major snow.  In most years we can count on a blizzard to come for Thanksgiving weekend in Minnesota, just when everyone is trying to travel.  Nature has a wonderful sense of humor, doesn’t she? 

These are quiet days of settling in, but their backdrop is one of expectancy, too.  As the year ends, there is another to come, and all too soon, things will awaken again.  For now, though, the garden is going down to sleep.

Photo Credits:  Peter Wuebker