For this last newsletter of 2024, and to celebrate the solstice, here is a story about darkness.

The pinnacle of my surfing career was short lived. It lasted approximately 5 hours, between the time I got 2nd place at the Ceremonial de Punta de Lobos surf contest and when I ran into a cactus in the dark.

If you search for “Ceremonial de Punta de Lobos” these days, you find lots of videos like this:

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It has turned into a major stop on the big wave tour in recent years, but when I competed, back in the early 2000’s, it was a far more local affair, and the waves I surfed weren’t nearly so big.

Still, it was a very big deal for me. To this day, I remember the wave that won me my 2nd place: A beautiful little tube ride, with dark swirling water under my feet and a glowing turquoise curtain feathering . . . wait, sorry, this is a gardening newsletter, not a surf magazine!

After the awards ceremony, it had gotten dark and I was headed out to celebrate with friends.

When it gets dark out on the bluffs overlooking the wave, it gets truly, properly dark. With only scattered buildings and no streetlights, the only thing I could see was the headlights of my friends’ car. I could hear them though, telling me to hurry up.

So I jogged straight towards the car . . . and right into a cactus.

Besides being covered in spines, I learned in that split second that cacti are very solid, like tree trunks. And also? Covered in spines.

With all the elation of my podium finish, though, I shrugged it off, and just picked the spines out of my knee throughout the evening. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized just how hurt I was. It took over a year for the tenderness in that knee to finally subside.*

Darkness can be scary and dangerous. There’s no doubt you’re more likely to slam your knee into a cactus in the dark.

On this longest night of the year, solstice traditions all over the world honor the light and help “escort” it through the darkness. Pagans burned the Yule log (cut from an evergreen tree, symbolizing eternal life) continuously in a fireplace through the 12 darkest days of the year. Christmas trees - evergreens that we bring inside and keep lit through this season - are a modern interpretation of that ancient practice.

Given how much light we have now in our modern lives, it sometimes seems to me that we may have been too successful in carrying the light through the darkness.

When I lived out on those dark bluffs above the sea, especially through the winter, I spent a lot of time with darkness. Visiting a neighbor for dinner meant a 15-minute walk with only starlight or moonlight to see by. Even popping out to the car to unload groceries, I was greeted by a sky full of stars.

For all those years I never didn’t know the phase of the moon. Not because I tracked it in a calendar or anything. I just saw it every day. The night sky was as familiar as afternoon shadows.

Most years during the solstice I think and write about carrying the light from one gardening year to the next. What dies with the last light of the year? Literally and symbolically? What do you want to nurture with the new light of the new year?

This year I’m thinking more about darkness and mystery.

What happens during the darkness that makes renewal possible? What’s happening in the soil that we can't see? In the roots of the trees that look dead but are very much alive?

Cold stratification is happening to the seeds lying dormant through the winter. What else relies on the cold and darkness for a reset?

What happens below our consciousness that allows us to renew ourselves? What do we lose if we banish darkness not only during these shortest days, but all year round?

You all know that I love evidence and research, especially as it relates to getting better results in the garden. Some things, however, we just don't know for sure.

As Sheri, who worked with me at Orta, always used to say, “When you get to the end of science, try magic!”

On these shortest days where darkness and mystery are most present, I’m thinking about exactly that: magic.

I hope you have a wonderful, magical holiday season and new year.

I’m taking a few weeks off to rest, spend time with family, play in the snow and wander around in the dark, looking at the sky. The Orta newsletter will be back on Seedurday January 11th.

Happy Solstice,

Anne

*P.S. In case you're worried that the cactus injury ended my surfing career - it didn't! I was fine, if sore. I kept surfing after that, but I wasn't really that good, or that competitive. I had just gotten lucky that one day at the Ceremonial, and stopped competing soon afterwards.

When you’re ready, here are some more ways I can help you grow a thriving garden from seed:

1. Plan your seed-starting schedule with our ​free printable planner.​

2. Download the free ​Orta Seed Starting Handbook with all the basics you need to succeed with seeds.​

3. Take the guesswork out of watering with Orta Self-Watering Pots. (Find discounted factory seconds here!)

4. Join the Orta Seed Club to have 5 hand-picked, unusual & high-yielding varieties delivered to you every season.

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