Rest and renew

With October long behind us, the bright colours from the trees around our home have faded, and their leaves gather on the ground. In the next few weeks, the snow will come and create both beauty for the eyes and barriers for the wheelchairs. So for now, I bundle Rachel and Janneke in their warm covers and wheel them outdoors to watch me prepare for winter with raking and pruning. They love the sensation of the wind blowing around them and seeing the leaves dance in the air.

I often ask my sisters about how to prepare the butterfly garden for winter. And every year, they remind me: let the garden rest. I have to fight the tendency to tidy it, knowing that the mess of leaves and decay will actually be welcomed in the spring, as new shoots from the ground find the sunshine. The old makes room for the new. 

The gift of repurposing 

The idea of tidying and making things new takes my thoughts from the garden to my mother-in-law, Mina. Ralph’s mom was a part of our family’s daily routine, as she lived in a long-term care home in our neighbourhood. Earlier this fall, after a lengthy illness, Mina took her last earthly breath. At her funeral, we recalled her talent as a skilled seamstress, starting at a very early age in her small town in the province of Drenthe, Holland. Mina was adept at taking old clothes and fabric and creating new pieces for her sisters and family to wear. This was a significant gift to the family during World War II and post-war, as Mina embraced the immigrant life in Canada. 

While accepting Mom Pot’s absence, we also had to take care of her belongings. I brought her recliner and mobility aid to a local charity, with the hope of passing it forward. As I walked in with the pieces, an older woman who was browsing turned and said, “Oh, that’s exactly what I’ve been looking for!” Even after death, Ralph’s mom was able to bring someone something new. 

Simple delight

Janneke’s laugh pulls my attention back to the girls sitting in the garden. I’m never certain of what brings her joy, but the cheeky grin confirms her delight. It’s possible she may have reacted to the bird that just chirped or the squirrel that darted along the top of the fence. Often, her laughter comes from being surprised by a sound or a sensation. 

The daylight hours are few and the weather is getting colder, so time in the garden is limited. As I set down my rake and begin to wheel the girls back inside, I look around at the perennials that are preparing for winter. Mindful of how we can’t be certain of what happens next – both in our home and in our world – I keep going back to the comforting words from Isaiah 43: “Behold, I am making everything new.” And that brings comfort and joy.