Bye bye broccoli

It surprised me the first time it happened: Pulling up broccoli plants at the end of the growing season caused a sudden stab of sadness. For months, these plants contributed to stir fries, soups, stews and even pot pies on our dinner table. Their big clusters of tight green flower buds were regularly served as a steaming side dish, tossed in a quick confetti of chopped herbs.

Now they were being yanked out by the roots, thrown in a wheelbarrow and dumped in a compost pile. Yes, they’d be doing the circle-of-life dance as they slowly turned into plant food for a future crop. But with their roots in my grip, the idea was overwhelmed by the sad reality: each of these generous, living, nourishing plants was destroyed and dripping dirt.

Now I brace myself for those outbreaks of emotion. This week, I brought in the last of the tomatoes — all the ones that didn’t crack after a recent rain, and were far enough along to finish ripening in the basement. Then I hardened my heart and cut down the plants and put away the tomato cages. I only got really sorrowful when I wrestled those wire cages into a corner. They’ll be sitting there, taking up space in the basement, until next May. That’s a long time to be tomato-less.

A Jewish friend taught me something that cheers me up when these sad thoughts arise. He explained that the Jewish new year is celebrated in the fall (this year it was Sept. 22-24) because this is typically when the seeds that will grow next year’s crops are ready, and the earth is prepared for a new beginning. It’s a sensible idea. Seeds are certainly the beginning. And setting our sights on a new year beckons our attention beyond all this imminent decomposition.

Various other new year celebrations might also inspire good moods and high-minded hopes. The winter solstice is on Dec. 21, bringing the glad tiding that days will once again begin to get longer. The darkness will be vanquished. No election or vote of Congress will be needed or even relevant. No recission can repeal or delay it.

Then of course there is Christmas a few days later, a celebration of a different kind of dawning. And a few days after that, another traditional New Year’s Day causes employers to give people a day off or some overtime pay.

Then, as the days are getting even longer, from Feb. 17 to March 3, 2026, there’s the Chinese New Year. That multi-day celebration recognizes a visibly coming spring, complete with green shoots.

It might take all of these celebrations — and warm blankets — to get us through our coming months of fall and winter.

But first we have fall planting to do.

October is the premier month for planting bulbs. It’s true you can procrastinate as late as Christmas, but it’s easier to plant now, while the weather is still mild and it’s not muddy yet. And bulbs planted now will mostly mature and bloom earlier than those planted later.

There are probably flowers that grow from bulbs you haven’t thought of. First there are all the endearing little ones, like snowdrops, that bloom early, usually by the first of February. And overlapping with snowdrop season, crocuses open up — in many colors, and in sizes from small to very small. Bees welcome them.

Those little early flowers keep hope alive in the year’s darkest months. They’re also the least expensive bulbs, and the easiest to plant since they don’t need to be more than about 3 inches underground.

A bag of them would be a good Christmas stocking stuffer, so long as the recipient planted them within days. (Does anyone still do Christmas stockings?)

I’ve sworn off planting tulips just to spite the squirrels. But more small daffodils would be welcome, because they bloom early, and a bunch of them in a small vase is a cheering sight when it’s still cold and wet outside and branches are still bare. Squirrels, deer and rabbits don’t like them.

Another bulb-grown flower that will enchant you and your neighbors is Mexican shell flower (Tigridia pavonia), which blooms in midsummer. Each flower lasts just a day, but there are a lot of flowers and a lot of days in midsummer. These can also be planted in early spring, but they are often sold out by then, so it’s best to buy and plant them now.

For the adventurous, the internet, garden magazines and print catalogues offer a whole universe of bulbs, soothing October bedtime reading and some stunning surprises. It’s the opposite of doomscrolling; it’s hope-and-beauty scrolling.

It’s also time to plant garlic bulbs, and perhaps a cover crop in the bare space where the tomatoes and broccoli plants were. But now my head is too deep into websites about exotic bulbs to be distracted. We can get to those topics next week.

Jill Severn writes from her home in Olympia, where she grows vegetables, flowers, and a small flock of chickens. She loves conversation among gardeners. Start one by emailing her at  jill@theJOLTnews.com.