Cold weather has arrived in central Virginia. The air is frigid, the ground is frozen, the trees are bare, and stillness abounds. As the snow falls and winds swirl through the mountain passes, the landscape might seem void of activity. But all is not what it seems: while Mother Nature appears to be sleeping, she is quietly preparing for the coming of spring.
With the onset of winter, the hard coats of the plant seeds are softened by frost and weathering action through a process called “stratification.” Stratification triggers the seed’s embryo, its growth, and subsequent expansion until it eventually breaks through the softened seed coat in its search for sun and nutrients.
Tulip Poplar, also known as Yellow Poplar, depends on winter’s freezing and thawing to ensure germination. The fruit cones, pointing upwards on the branches, remain on the tree in various stages of dilapidation throughout much of the winter. Eventually, they will fall to the ground, where the seeds inside the cones will lay dormant until spring warms the earth.
Most wildflower seeds depend on this process including Nodding Wild Onion, Milkweed, New England Aster, Shooting Star, Coneflower, Penstemon, Phlox, Black-eyed Susan, Prairie Dock, Rattlesnake Master, Gentian, Prairie Smoke, and Goldenrod.
Like wildflowers and other plants, many animals survive winter by lowering their metabolism. Semi-hibernators like chipmunks, raccoons, and skunks go into a state called torpor where body temperature and heart beat does down. Unlike true hibernators, they wake up during warmer periods to go out in search of food.
Hibernators, on the other hand, can exist in a state of deep sleep for several months to escape the cold and scarcity of food. With body temperatures so low their metabolisms are almost at a standstill, they get through the long months of winter by conserving body energy. Groundhogs dig special burrows in a wooded or brushy area below the frost line where temperatures remain well above freezing.
Groundhogs, one of Virginia’s only true hibernators, will emerge from their burrows in March or April, having lost as much as half their body weight.
While it’s true that winter can seem void of life and activity, I have come to appreciate the quietness of the season. Just as Mother Earth unwinds, gathering resources and energy before her burst of creative rebirth in the spring, we, too, need this time of turning inward, to contemplate and just be. For me, winter is a time to slow down, reflect, and appreciate the miracle that is Nature.
When the great sun has turned his face away,
The earth goes down into a vale of grief,
And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables,
Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay –
Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses.