like hibernating hedgehogs

When the ice of winter holds the house in its rigid grip, when curtains are drawn against that vast frozen waste of landscape, almost like a hibernating hedgehog I relish the security of being withdrawn from all that summer ferment that is long since past. Then is the time for reappraisal: to spread out, limp and receptive, and let garden thoughts rise to the surface. They emerge from some deep source of stillness which the very fact of winter has released.
Mirabel Osler.

(She was writing about actual gardens, but I like the idea of a garden thought as something buried waiting for stillness to grow.)

Photo via quiet time.