Coming out of hibernation

The season’s just turned to Spring in Melbourne, and I feel it in my bones. Although my hands and feet are still cold in the mornings and evenings, I feel the warmth of newness rising, awakening me from my winter hibernation.

I don’t enjoy being cold, and I struggle to find the motivation to go outside to garden in winter. Melbourne is not that cold compared to other parts of the world, but the sting of cold hands is enough to stop me from going outside.

I’ve been gardening for about 8 years now, and I’ve noticed a pattern. I’m slow to emerge from my winter gardening hibernation. Emails pop up in my inbox, reminding me that July and August are the months to plant my seeds so I have produce ready for Spring and Summer. I had planned to get the tomato seed into their trays in the second week of August, but they’re still waiting patiently for me inside their packets.

My special tomato seeds gifted to me from a friend. I'll grow them this year in memory of her dad

Why do I do this?

I think it’s overwhelm.

You see, my brain sees things in pictures. Bear with …

I have a kind of photographic mind, but not. If I see a page in a book and take it in, I can bring it to my mind later and ‘read’ what is on the page—not in detail, but I remember the summary and what content is where.

When I go to someone’s garden and take it all in, I can then bring that garden back into my mind and walk around it. Just like I’m replaying a video in my memory. I used to think this was normal, but after meeting my husband, I now know it’s not.

He’s a musician at heart. A bass player specifically. He remembers the world audibly. He’ll watch a movie or listen to a song, and I’m telling you … years down the track, he will remember word for word the lines of that song or lines from the script. I’ll be able to tell you what someone was wearing in the scene from the movie, but I’ve got no clue what they said.

So, back to gardening. When I think of my garden and what I want to plant out for the next season, my brain creates visuals of what it could be. And it’s not minimal, let me tell you.

I came across the concept of plant maximalism from the plant practitioner Jac Semmler. Walking around her garden, ‘Heartland’, is a visual feast for the eyes. I’ve been lucky to see a few iterations of her garden over the years, and each time, it just gets better.

Left: Sweet peas from Jac Semmler's garden Right: Jac's divine potting shed

Jac has a way of placing plants in relation to each other so that they fill every space but don’t crowd each other out. Through her plant curation, she can create a colourful garden all year round rather than just the colourful spring and summer gardens we’ve historically seen in our suburbs. I’d love to understand the formula, but I’m not sure there is one. Maybe I should ask her one day?

So, when I stare out at the garden from the window in front of my desk, my brain starts filling in the gaps with plant potential. In that vision, there’s no dirt visible, just a mass of green and colour. I now only see gardens with plant maximalism!

I think that’s where the overwhelm comes from. I see a vision of what I want to create and know it will take some work to get there.

Also, the space I garden in is rented, so there are many constraints to work with.

But each year, I remind myself that I need to do something, anything, to start. Soon enough, each little action will cause a snowball, and by summer’s end, the garden will be full of colour and movement.

This week, I’ve got my dahlia tubers to separate. They’ve sprouted already after being left in pots under the eaves over winter. I’ll resist buying new varieties this year, but homegrown flowers are my weakness. So, this week may involve having a cheeky look at Wild Violet Flower Farm’s stock.

I’ll also plant out my seeds over the next few days. Tomatoes are the main priority. I overwintered my capsicums in pots and popped them in the ground last week under a temporary greenhouse. (Oh, see, I have done something productive in the garden! Woohoo!)

The temporary greenhouse over my over-wintered capsicums

Here’s a list to remind me what else gets the gardening vibes flowing after winter:

• I love reading Pip and Hugo’s substack: The Garden at Moorfield

• I try and catch up on 3CR’s radio’s Gardening Show while I do housework.

• I listen to Alice Vincent’s Why Women Grow Podcast

• I listen to Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

• I’m in a few Facebook gardening groups like The Diggers Club one

• Finally, I try to stop and go to the garden to inhale and exhale without running a list of to-do’s through my mind.

Writing this out today seems to have become my new favourite way to find some gardening mojo. I’m hoping to write here more over Spring and Summer, document what grows, and share some of the stories of my plants.

Thanks for being here and reading this far. I hope you find time to play in the dirt when you can.

Cass x