I am like garlic

Stick with me now... this will all make sense in a minute.

Every year around this time, we hear that it’s time to launch something new: new goals, new habits, new energy—right on January 1st. I’ve talked before about how New Year’s resolutions don’t really resonate with me, and I'm further understanding why. It's no wonder so many of us give up on those new year's resolutions so quickly: we are not wired to bloom on command in the middle of winter. And honestly, neither is Mother Nature.

In the fall, I planted garlic for the first time. I tucked it into the soil before the cold really set in, covered it with warm layers, and now… I wait. It doesn’t perform. It doesn’t prove anything. It goes dormant. All winter long, it rests underground, protected and quiet, gathering what it needs for what comes next. And no one looks at garlic in January and asks why it hasn’t grown yet.

So why do we expect ourselves to be any different? Winter is a season to nest and savor, to purposefully take stock of what the year has given and what it has taken. Like a plant resting beneath the soil, we’re storing what we'll need later: drawing in nourishment, strengthening roots, and gathering energy for the growing season ahead. It might look like nothing is happening, yet everything necessary for growth is quietly being prepared. It’s not a time for pushing or forcing growth; it’s a time for restoration. The growth is happening, just not in ways we can see yet.

Spring is when garlic breaks through the soil and shows us what all that quiet work produced. That’s when it blooms, stretches, and eventually offers its harvest. I’m so excited to see what my first crop produces. Just as I'm excited to see what I produce too—after a season of rest, warmth, and patience. For now, I’m letting winter be winter, trusting that my time to bloom will come right on schedule.

P.S. Many thanks to Stacy, the garlic goddess, for her guidance in getting my first crop in the ground.