Yesterday, my youngest came home from school holding an adorable coloring of a groundhog and announced that there would be six more weeks of winter. “Yes”, I replied, “I had a feeling the groundhog would say that”. Here in the Northeast, we’ve had quite the winter so far – with no indication of improvement. Six more weeks of cold feels like a lot to ask of me right now.
Despite the cold, everything around us seems to be on fire. Our government has officially dropped its mask and donned its hood. Documentation of child sexual abuse is casually released while no action is taken, masked agents are kidnapping and murdering innocents, and people right here in my neighborhood are reacting to public executions with sneering and cheering. The most vocal supporters of this administration that I know personally have gotten quiet, but that’s not an indication of lasting change or action – just withdrawal – like, “Don’t look at me”.
I have attended every training and direct action webinar, read every political email and Substack, and signed every petition. I’ve written 100 postcards in the last week alone. I share videos of people putting their bodies on the line and of others reporting the news on the ground; I donate to organizations and volunteer at the food bank. None of it feels like enough.
Last week, I sorted seeds with the garden division at my local food bank. The head gardener said she would choose this year’s crops first, then community garden organizers, libraries, other mutual aid organizations, and local seed libraries would go through the seed inventory to refill their own. Based on last year’s reporting, their seed stock helped grow almost 40,000 pounds of food. I’ve been holding onto those numbers like a life raft all week.
I keep saying I’m about to start some seeds or even make a list of plants, but, to be honest, I really don’t have it in me right now. I use Seedtime, a garden planner and digital seed inventory, so I can just open a tab and sign in, but sometimes putting my hands on the packets is its own sort of therapy. Earlier, while rummaging through my workshop, I found two full bags of Mother Earth’s soil mix and celebrated – at least I won’t have to drag myself out to the nursery.
I could get into the cycle of punishing and beating myself up, or I could just take the time to notice where I’m at. Bearing witness to my own feelings and ultimately figuring out what I need to move through this moment is the best option for long-term fortitude and healing because, ya’ll, we’re really gonna need everything we’ve got.
So, here’s what I’ve got:
Two bags of soil mix
Soil blocking tools
Seeds: medicinal, culinary, native, ornamental
Grow lights and trays
What I still need to find:
Motivation
If I stop trying to force motivation to happen; if I allow myself the time to curl up in the square of warm sunlight in the afternoon; if I sit with my grief, fear, disenchantment, rage, and broken heart, eventually the cold will break, and the ice will melt, and I will crave the feeling of soil in my hands.
I often struggle during this time of year because underneath my human facade, I am a hibernating bat, an overwintering bee, a dormant seed. If you also find that it hurts to push yourself during this time, maybe you are a hibernating ladybug or sleeping bear. If nature is resting, storing energy, and preparing for the growing season, and we acknowledge that we are also nature, then it follows that we should be doing the same.
I cannot “power through” when I am supposed to “power down”. I do as much as I can without abandoning myself or betraying the very foundation of my existence; the rest will have to wait another six weeks.
Love you to your roots,
The Forest Witch 🍄
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