“Winter tells the secret of longer, longest, endless dark and cold that was, and the longer, longest, endless dark to come. Grip tight, press hard. Such is winter love.”
– Nina Maclaughlin, Winter Solstice
On Sunday, December 21st here in the Northern Hemisphere, our planet will be tilted the furthest distance away from the sun, making it the longest night of the year. Such is the Winter Solstice, and if you’re following the astrological calendar, the first day of winter.
As a farmer and gardener, and someone who works outdoors, I feel the presence – and absence – of the light acutely. The daylight dictates my work hours, what flowers we plant, when we plant them, and how quickly our plants grow. Winter is also distinctly our “planting season” on the farm.
At home, winter feels like seemingly neverending evenings with my kids; books, warming drinks, hot baths, a fire in our woodstove; long stretching shadows and early sunsets; my weekly movie date with my oldest kid, Alyosha, at the Mission Valley AMC, when we both enter (!) and leave (!) the theatre in the dark. Winter feels like memories from my childhood: small amber cupped hands illuminated by plug-in candles glowing in the windowsills, waking up to a banister wrapped in garland overnight, ice skating on the frozen pond in the woods behind our house.
On the farm, the winter season feels like it actually begins with the planting of our tulips.
I was waiting on the front porch last Wednesday at 3 p.m., when two guys in a FedEx truck pulled up with eleven boxes of bulbs. “Put them directly in here, if you don’t mind!” I said, pulling open the door to our new-to-us farm van. A rapturous 220-pounds worth of bulbs . . . and I did not want to move them twice.
I began planting immediately, the sun gradually dipping over the trees in the southwestern corner of my neighbor Tom’s backyard. I covered the bulbs with eight inches of soil, shoveling until it was pitch black outside and I could no longer see what I was doing. My neighbor Tom thoughtfully replaced the light bulb over the garage for occasions such as this one.
Our tulips – eleven different varieties in all – will bloom in February and March for our Flower CSA!
The winter season is also the best time to establish plants native to California. Last week, between planting rows of tulips (undeterred by the warm and rainless December weather forecast), we installed our first ever California native plant garden in the Ridgeview backyard of our wonderful new garden hosts, Sandy and John. I’ve been looking forward to planting this garden for many months now, and it was finally time. Weather be damned.
We planted a beautiful selection of plants from Neel’s Nursery in Encinitas, plus ones that we had started on our own from seed. The plants I chose to grow were inspired by various hikes, runs, and camping trips in San Diego county over the past several years; and also plants I’ve discovered in the native plant gardens of my friends and neighbors. (If you’d like a list of what we planted for inspiration, feel free to reply to this email – I’d love to share it with you!) In the center of the garden we designed a “dry stream bed” with all of the rocks we had dug up in the garden, which will hopefully help slow the flow and capture of rainwater. I thought the garden turned out great, and it will look even better in two years’ time.
If you’re still looking for a gift, or would love to usher in the light with the promise of future flowers, we have spots remaining in our 2026 Flower CSA, which includes one bouquet a month from the farm during our 2026 growing season.
What screams “Winter Solstice” to you? Wishing you a beautiful solstice this upcoming Sunday, and warm, happy holidays.
Love always,
Rachel
