Light work
On the outside, by Ros Ball
Reading Ros’s piece today on gardening in winter I was reminded of listening to a science journalist on the radio some years ago talking about daylight. Even in the depths of winter, when we think it might be grey and dark, the intensity of light outside is so much greater than indoors.
She talked about how illuminance (which is measured in lux - the intensity of light that hits or passes through a surface) inside a typical office is around 200 lux. Outside, even on the most overcast winter’s day, it’s 2,000 lux. Ten times brighter. Having this exposure can strengthen the circadian clock and impact on mood. No wonder being outside - whether gardening, walking, or whatever else you might be doing - can bring feelings of well-being. I know I always feel infinitely better for being outdoors, even on the most dreary of winter days.
On the outside, by Ros Ball
Since becoming a professional gardener in 2023 I’ve noticed how much people hide inside and see the weather as more of a barrier than I now see it. People ask how I’m coping with the winter, how wet I got today, they look slightly pityingly at me with my outdoor, manual labour job, but the question has become fascinating to me. They know I have to be outside when most people would choose to be inside. But I’ve learnt something that they’ve never had to experience, that I’m grateful that my job forces me to be out there, because otherwise I may stay inside myself, just as most of us have been conditioned to do.
In the English language, originating from the 1610s, the word ‘outside’ refers to “the part or place that lies without, or beyond an enclosure or barrier". Being in a house, a building, something that really separates and seals us off from the open air is quite recent in human history.
Out there in the rain in my Fort Flex rubber waterproofs and silly oiled hat, I’m benefitting from the reciprocal way nature provides us with what we need. I’m not talking metaphorically. Moving water creates negative ions that produce biochemical reactions, which may increase levels of serotonin, helping to alleviate depression, relieve stress, and boost our daytime energy.1
It means our bodies benefit from rain, the sea, a fast flowing river, a waterfall. This seems deeply poetic but it’s actually incredibly straightforward to me. Our evolution was in tandem with the natural world. Removing ourselves from it disconnects us from things that benefit us. Instead you can now buy a negative-ion generator, a machine that tries to replicate these effects but is a relatively untested piece of kit. Perhaps this is a way to provide negative ions to those who don’t have access to a mountainside, but it seems a poor substitute from a world that finds a way to create revenue out of a naturally occurring thing. You could just go out in the rain for free.
I should qualify this to say that I am not advocating for ‘trad wife’, faux outdoor lifestyles or a return to some imagined bucolic agrarian past with a frighteningly high mortality rate. Humans having the capacity to stay warm, dry and safe from the elements is, of course, vital. Likewise access to good quality outdoor green space continues to be an issue of inequality. With these issues in mind, I simply make a request for us all to consider being outside for longer periods of time as a desirable benefit to our lives, to not take the rain as a sign to stay inside, to go out and see that it can feel good to be out in it. I now find the days when I stay inside are less happy. Believe me, in the winter I have to be working to stay warm, but that’s the beauty of it, the mindful work, the cold fresh air, the body heats up, the mind calms.
This is also not a finger-wagging lecture to ask why you’re not more active outdoors. I know it’s not always that easy. In 2020 I started a half-stitch embroidery project. It was made up of nine 15 centimetre square letters that spelled out the words ‘GO OUTSIDE’ in shouty capitals. It took me a year to complete and the letters now hang on the wall in my kitchen. I can’t remember when or how I came up with the plan for the project. Looking back at my instagram where I posted a photo of the completed letters I wrote, “Sometimes I struggle with my mental health and even though I know gardening or a walk makes me feel better I find it hard to do.” If I don’t have a commitment to be at work then I frequently can go the whole day without stepping outside. I’m writing this from my bed at midday. I try to be compassionate with myself about the days when I’m not motivated, or simply need to allow myself rest. The weather apps can be part of the problem. I certainly look at them and plan my movements alongside them, when sometimes it would be more sensible just to look out the window. The lack of time and priority we give to being outside is recent and I suppose I’m advocating for a cultural shift that says, this is a priority for a good life and something we should look into more closely.
How many other ways might our bodies be attuned to the natural world that we have cut ourselves off from, what other reciprocal secrets might we learn about the symbiosis of nature? Last year my friend at Hookheath Flower Farm left the gate open to the field she cultivates and deer came in overnight and munched her roses down to stubs. It was definitely not ideal but the upshot was a much greater bloom of roses once they regrew. Research on tree saplings has shown that when a deer leaves its saliva behind the saplings increase their concentrations of growth hormones to compensate for the lost ones.2 When we prune a rose with secateurs we are mimicking animals eating them, but our tools lack the enzymes that speak directly to the plant. It’s no matter, but it is fascinating.
How incredibly attuned are we all, by which I mean every living thing. It reminds me so much of Robin Wall-Kimmerer’s description of an economy of abundance in nature when she asks us to reimagine currencies of exchange. She writes,
“It’s funny how the nature of an object – let’s say a strawberry or a pair of socks – is so changed by the way it comes into your hands, as a gift or as a commodity. The pair of wool socks I buy at the store, red and gray striped… There is no bond beyond the politely exchanged “thank yous” with the clerk. I have paid for them and our reciprocity ended the minute I handed her the money… But what if those very same socks, red and gray striped, were knitted by my grandmother and given to me as a gift? That changes everything. A gift creates an ongoing relationship. I will write a thank-you note. I will take good care of them and if I am a very gracious grandchild I’ll wear them when she visits even if I don’t like them. When it’s her birthday I will surely make her a gift in return.”
We are deeply bonded with the complex layers of our environment. As foolish as it may sound, negative ions in the rain are a gift to you. The rain, certainly in the UK, is freely available to you, maybe to improve your mood, to reduce your stress. I hope I’ve now also given you the gift of awareness of one of the ways you are physiologically connected to your environment. Will you accept the gift of moving water, or the benefits of nature, known and unknown? Will you simply stay near them, on the out side, for longer?
Ros Ball sells cut-flowers grown in under-used front gardens in South London as The Front Garden Flower Farm. She is also a self-employed gardener, author and occasional journalist. You can find Ros on Instagram @frontgardenflowerfarm and @ros_but_growing
Ros is being paid for this article.
https://bmcpsychiatry.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/1471-244X-13-29
https://besjournals.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/1365-2435.12717#:~:text=Trees%20respond%20to%20deer%20browsing,in%20remaining%20buds%20and%20leaves.