Fallow, not absent: what trees teach us about letting go
Hello Friends
Last month, I didn't write. I could tell you I was busy, and I was. But it’s the time of the year to be thinking about yield, whether that’s harvest yields or the letting go kind, so in that cheesy awkward-continuity-link kind of way, let’s think about the vital importance of fallow and letting go, as taught by nature.
Two kinds of 'yield'
We usually think of yield as what we gather: the return on all that sowing and tending, whether in the garden, the business or ourselves. The other kind of yield, giving way and letting go, sounds like its opposite. In the land's way of doing things, however, the two meet in fallow - which comes next in the seasonal cycle.
Fallow was never idle
Fallow looks like a field doing nothing, but farmers never saw it that way. Medieval fields left fallow were still ploughed several times through the season, so the ground was being worked differently, not abandoned. Under the old three-field system, every field rested one year in three. Rest was part of how a healthy system was maintained, rather than a period of nothing.
The Torah takes the same idea further with shmitah: six years of sowing and harvesting are followed by this seventh year of rest. The word comes from a root meaning to release or let drop. In that year the land wasn't worked, debts were forgiven, and whatever grew by itself was open to landholder, labourer, stranger and beast. However, Leviticus cautions that if the land is refused its rest, it will take that rest anyway, ‘the rest that it did not have on your Sabbaths.’
How trees let go
Meanwhile, trees plan their letting-go well in advance! At the base of each leaf stalk, the tree forms a thin separation layer long before the leaf begins to turn. Then it takes back what it needs. Scientists following an aspen through its autumn found that around 80% of the nitrogen in its leaves was withdrawn before they fell, and ‘re-stored’ for the next spring surge. Those October colours are the visible sign of the tree gathering its harvest in. Letting go and taking in are just the same.
Trees that start early recover their resources well. But those that hang on for a little more summer can sometimes get caught out and lose their leaves before the goodness is gathered in. The lesson is that fallow will come either way, so it's worth taking it in time!
A word for the medlar
Let’s leave the last thought to the medlar. Since Old English times it has been known - very rudely - as ‘open-arse’. Chaucer used the name in The Reeve's Tale and Shakespeare gave it to Mercutio, although early printers refused to print it. Thus derided, the medlar is also hard and sour until frost or time have bletted it, leaving it softened, browned and thoroughly past it. Some of us may identify… but we also know that’s really when it’s reached its prime!
Read about the difference between nature relationships and nature connection here
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Dr Juno Quaintrell is chief acorn-nurturer at Eden Rooted, where she helps people at through of change and stress create user-friendly, customised nature support systems for busy lives. At other times, find her making adventures or live music, or in her online community.
