The Garlic Teaches Me to Rest
I’m tired.
But still, there’s that familiar pull — to keep showing up, to keep pushing through.
This morning started with a list of five things:
Process the beeswax and store it away
Clean my son’s room (yes, the bees have claimed it again)
Plant the garlic
Process the honey
Get it all tucked away before the day ends
Do you know how many of those I actually accomplished?
One. I planted the garlic.
The Flow of the Day
Maybe it’s just how my brain works, but when you’re doing everything by hand — especially with little ones running in every direction — tasks have a way of blending into one another.
Take honey processing, for example. It’s slow work. You scrape the boards, let the honey drip through a mesh strainer, and then you wait. Two hours pass. The kids are hungry again. I realize I’ve been in the kitchen all day — breakfast, cleanup, lunch, repeat.
By early afternoon, lessons are done, the walls feel tight, and I feel the call of the garden — come tend to me, I’ll ground you.
So we move outside.
The kids scatter, painting with sticks and mud. My youngest sits in his stroller, heavy-eyed, watching the chickens and ducks wander free. I kneel into the soil and begin separating garlic cloves, two little piles waiting for their winter home.
But as I work, the garden calls me deeper in.
I start cleaning up here, removing trellises there. I save a few pole beans for next spring and laugh when I discover two hidden zucchinis under the lettuce — small surprises that feel like gifts.
And still, the garlic sits waiting.
I find the right spot: two small raised beds that seem to whisper, join us together. So I start to dig, hauling boulders to merge the retaining walls. Then I notice the soil is uneven. I wander to another bed to gather soil, remembering I’ll need to line it with mesh soon to keep the chipmunks out next season.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can hear Kyle’s voice teasing, “You’d get so much more done if you just stuck to one task at a time.”
And he’s not wrong. But there’s something about following the flow that just feels right.
The Lesson in the Soil
This morning, I set the intention to take it slow. My body feels the seasonal shift — the pull inward, the call to hibernate and reconnect. Yet my inner critic always seems to chime in:
You can’t sit still.
How can you teach others about healthy living if you’re just resting?
But maybe that is the point.
The garlic teaches me this. She’s planted in fall — nestled deep into the cool soil, to rest through the long, dark months. She doesn’t rush. She doesn’t question. She trusts that her time will come again in spring.
How beautiful is that?
Nature reminds us that slowing down isn’t laziness. It’s wisdom. It’s preparation. It’s the body’s way of gathering energy for what’s next.
An Invitation to You
So, my loves, I invite you to listen to the whispers of this season.
Where in your life can you begin saying no — so that you can say yes to rest?
Where can you give yourself permission to move slower, to tend to your inner soil?
Because just like the garlic, we, too, need time to rest, to root, to restore — so that when spring comes, we can rise strong, ready, and full of life.
In Peace, Love and Service,
Rebecca
