Once daylight savings time started this year, I noticed almost immediately that my desire to go to the gym after work took a nosedive. You too? When the darkness descends at 5:00, it’s hard to resist the urge to hibernate. And somehow changing clothes in the frigid atmosphere of the locker room (why aren’t they warmer?) became another mental hurdle. I began to curtail my after-lunch walks outdoors once they no longer held the promise of warm fall sunshine.
After struggling for a few weeks to get motivated, I found inspiration and invigoration from an unexpected source.
I began to read The Secret Garden with my daughter. (It’s a tough read-aloud book, unless you have the gift of pulling off a convincing Yorkshire accent, but it’s worth it!)
I had forgotten – what a joy to rediscover these books from childhood! – how the core of the story is not so much the finding of the garden, but the restorative powers it holds for the main characters.
Mary comes to England from India weak – physically, mentally, and spiritually. She has had little love in her life and no reason to exert herself. In England, she is forced to play outside every day in the harsh Yorkshire wind coming off the moor. The author celebrates this moor as a sort of elixir for children. The little boy, Dickon, who plays there daily – rain or shine – never gets sick, has rosy cheeks and a big smile, and knows the secrets of all the animals that share the habitat with him.
As Mary grows accustomed to the wind, she begins to enjoy it. She develops an appetite for food and grows stronger. Her mind is enlivened, and she becomes curious about the people and animals around her. The discovery of the secret garden, and the joy she takes from planting things and watching them grow, bring her to life.
The environment next begins its restorative work on her cousin Colin, who rarely leaves his bed and who his caregivers cruelly predict will die before long. The harsh beauty of the moor, the invigorating wind, and the hopeful signs of the small green shoots that begin to poke through the dead garden heal the children, inside and out.
This is a perfect book to read in the winter, when spring seems far away and the urge to stay indoors is strong. Just reading it gave me the desire to run outdoors, feel the cold air in my lungs and the tingling of my hands and feet. Suddenly the heated comfort of my home, office, and car seemed almost oppressive. I have no trouble, now, donning my coat after lunch and walking a few times around the office parking lot, no matter the weather. The winter can be dreary, but the plants are “working” under ground, preparing for spring, and so will I.