Winter has come to Sonoma County. The wind picks up at four. It’s dark by five. I’m ready for bed by seven-thirty but sometimes wait until eight before calling it a night. And then when Rick and I get up by five in the morning, it’s still dark! When I take Ranger out for his morning constitutional, the cloud-covering hides the stars. But I do hear frogs, lots of frogs singing.
Winter is a grave time. There is a time for all things. The vineyard is dormant, and it is time to prune, to cut away old growth in preparation for new. It is a time of potential, letting some shoots remain long and tying them to higher wires that will allow more airflow through the vines, more cordons for producing fruit.
The vineyard and yard aren’t as pretty when so much is cut away. Piles of debris are loaded into bins and hauled away. Everything looks bare, lifeless.
I remember writing Leota’s Garden and living vicariously through Leota and Annie as they worked on restoration and making the backyard a hint of Eden. When we moved here, the backyard was much like Leota’s. The original owner had laid out a plan but had become lost in the jungle of neglect. It took four years of hard work to see the plan come back to life. (A doctor told a friend of mine that the best workout is working in a garden. So true, and it’s a whole lot more fun — and free, too!)
Each plant requires a different method of pruning. Roses are cut back hard, up to one-third to half removed, keeping the outer buds to make a bowl shape so air and light flows. Everything dead or unhealthy is cut away. Shrub roses are cut low and uniform. I cut some plants all the way to the ground, knowing they will flourish with spectacular colors in the spring.
So it is with people, and the Master Garden knows exactly what each of us needs to grow strong and flourish.