November is when the garden starts to slow down, and so do I — a little, anyway.
The beds are going to sleep now. I've cut most things back and tucked straw, leaves, and pine needles around what's left, keeping the mulch away from the crowns so nothing rots. I leave some seed pods standing. They look nice against the bare stems, and something out there is always glad of them.
The deep beds are still settling — my great soil disappearing act. The mix sinks lower every season, so the beds need topping up again. Perennials in almost every bed now, happy plants and beds that need more dirt. Live and learn.
Underneath it all, the soil is still working. The branches and leaves I layered in are breaking down, the worms are doing their part, and by spring it'll all be that much richer. I keep feeding the soil and the soil keeps feeding everything else.
That's the garden this month: put to bed, mulched in, and quietly getting ready. The tiny things are everything.
