By Leslie Watkins

Memento mori is Latin and means “remember you must die.” It’s a reminder of the inevitability of death, and it’s useful to help us keep things in proper perspective. Plato thought that the practice of philosophy was “about nothing else but dying and being dead.” Which in turn may make us wonder what makes a “good” life, what’s important? We see this symbolism in nature as winter sets in.

This year the winter solstice falls on December 21. On the shortest day of the year the sun will illuminate our town for just nine hours and seven minutes. Afterward, we will celebrate the birth of a new year and the lengthening days to come. Long winter nights are a good time to contemplate where we are in life and where we’re going. As we approach the end of another year we express gratitude for what we have, celebrate our accomplishments and begin to plan how to reach future goals. Outside, the stark landscape reveals the bones of our gardens and allows for critical analysis. We have time to think about what is working well and what improvements can be made.

My 13-year-old garden has gone through many changes, some expected and some surprising. Mother Nature and Time have wrought their magic with my design. The two little amelanchiers I planted on either side of my entrance have grown into a beautiful arch that welcomes spring with early silvery blossoms, later providing a feast of berries for flocks of cedar waxwings. In early autumn the leaves sprinkle my walkway with brilliant scarlet. What they have grown into and how much they please me as I go in and out exceed my original vision. The mostly native hedgerow I planted to shield the house from the road is now a dense thicket that changes color and texture throughout the seasons. It makes me feel more comfortable when I’m on my front porch. A pair of Hydrangea petiolaris I planted from one-gallon pots are now more than 25 feet tall and lend a romantic look to the trees they’re growing on. 

As the beds and borders have matured they provide sculptural interest and make my property feel larger than it really is. Branches are beginning to create ceilings overhead, and unattractive views are hidden from sight. An unexpected result is the increase in wildlife traffic that passes though here regularly. The full-sized shrubs afford small animals protection from predators and give predators hiding spots to stalk from. Vines that were planted to soften the edges of structures are beginning to cover them and make them disappear into the greenery. My gardening tasks have changed to include the editing out of extra plants, trimming back shrubs, training meandering vines and maintaining the edges of the paths—there’s not much lawn left. And every so often a plant reaches the end of its natural life and presents the opportunity to try something new.

What’s most surprising is how beautifully it all comes together, the scents, the color, the thriving ecology. Yes, I had the vision, implemented the design and did the work—I hoped for the best. But walking through the garden years later, listening to birdsong, seeing transmitted sunlight turn leaves into stained glass, the fragrances of various flowers as they come into bloom—it’s the moment when it all comes together into a full-blown sensory experience much greater than what I could have imagined that truly delights and amazes. Experiencing it with the knowledge that life is brief makes it sweeter still. 

December Check List

• Broken fences
• Broken branches
• Evidence of voles
• Insect pests
• Places for new shrubs
• Drainage issues
• Tumbled stones
• Vacancies in the borders
• Invasive plants
• Joyful inspiration