Hello, fellow lovers of all things green,
Thank you to those who reached back after our last chat about Nature’s Shadows. Your notes reminded me how comforting it can be to notice what winter reveals rather than what it hides. Several of you shared that shadows in your gardens—or in your lives—felt less lonely when seen as outlines of something still present, still loved. This week is a natural continuation. Along with shadows come reflections, each playing a role in nature, garden design, and the garden of life.
In winter’s hush, even the smallest bridge
becomes a place of light—
guiding us gently across the dark.
Shadows, Reflections, and What Winter Reveals
Shadows form when light is blocked, casting shadows stretching away from their source. Reflections occur when light bounces off surfaces—ponds, lakes, windows, and mirrors—mirroring the colors and shapes of whatever stands before them: plants, people, animals, structures, and sky— without judgment, I might add.
Soon after Jolee arrived, she saw her reflection in the storm door and stared in awe—or confusion. Dogs may first think the image is another dog until smell and sound tell them otherwise. While they see well, they rely most on their nose and hearing.
The Mirror Test and Knowing Ourselves
Some animals do recognize themselves in mirrors—chimpanzees, orangutans, dolphins, elephants, and a few others. The mirror test, developed in 1970 by psychologist Gordon Gallup, assesses whether an animal recognizes its reflection as its own image. A harmless mark is placed where only a mirror reveals it. If the animal investigates the mark on itself, it suggests visual self-recognition, one sign of self-awareness.
Dogs may not pass visually, yet some researchers believe they recognize themselves through scent—a lovely reminder that there is more than one way to know oneself.
The Subtle Color of Shadows
I came across a video titled “Casting Shadow,” by artist Ellen Ebert. She explains the difference between shadows and reflections in paintings and helps us understand our enjoyment of them in nature and gardens. What fascinated me most was the influence of light on shadow color.
Outdoor shadows often appear bluish or violet because blue skies spread cool light into shaded places. By comparison, the area outside the shade lacks a purplish tint because the sun’s more dominant yellow color casts a stronger hue, and shadows fade farther from the subject than in the shade. So, shadows aren’t merely darkness; they hold subtle color.
Water, Mirrors, and Light in Garden Design
Shadows darken in water and can reveal what lies beneath, while reflections shimmer below the object, blending sky, light, and surface. In mirrors, images reverse—familiar yet slightly changed—one of those bits of physics that still feels like magic.
Winter stillness turns the farm into a mirror—
where sky, water, and memory rest together in quiet reflection.
Simply put:
Shadows are the absence of light.
Reflections are light returning an image.
In gardens, both play a role. Still pools double what surrounds it and create calm symmetry. Mirrors in shaded corners expand space and brighten darkness. Smooth stone, polished metal, and gazing balls offer tiny, reflected worlds. Thoughtfully used, reflections make small gardens feel spacious and invite quiet order.
Placement is important. Be sure to place mirrors in areas to prevent glare or fire risk, and keep them clear of bird flight paths. I like to soften them with vines, so they feel part of the living garden.
I think of my dear friend and garden design mentor, Marty Carson, whose Victorian mirror reflected a small frog-filled pond below it. I can still hear the mirror echoing the frogs’ sound. It was so beautiful… how I miss Marty and our garden visits.
Reflections Within the Garden of Life
Moonlight gathers the day’s last colors
and lays them softly on the water—
a reminder that endings can glow.
Indeed, in gardens and nature, reflections and shadows work together. A calm pond surface mirrors the sky while nearby branches cast soft darkness across the water —light and shade living together, each revealing something the other cannot.
Perhaps, our inner lives work that way, too. We carry places of brightness and happiness in our lives that we show the world. Then there are quieter areas of challenge or sadness that often stay hidden, like the shaded side of a garden path, not wrong or unsightly, just unseen.
For a long time, I thought healing meant bringing hidden feelings to the surface, but gardens have taught me otherwise.
Some seeds only germinate in darkness.
Roots do their important work underground.
Tender plants need dappled shade before they can endure full sun.
A quiet paddle through autumn’s mirror— where movement ripples the stillness yet never disturbs the peace beneath.
Mirrors offer back without judgment.
So maybe reflection of our pasts that impact our lives now is tender seeing. The way water reveals the sky, or how a mirror offers back what stands before it, without judgment.
Painful patterns, sometimes called self-sabotage, may begin as protection shaped by childhood family dynamics. In garden language, it’s a plant shaped by difficult weather—leaning toward scarce light, holding tight to little water, growing small to stay safe. Those responses were wisdom, not failures. They were how the plant survived. Same with us.
Where winter loosens its hold,
reflection reveals what has been waiting quietly beneath.
When richer soil and steadier light appear, old patterns may linger in the roots—not because the plant is broken, but because it remembers. Awareness of our old patterns becomes a gentle gardener loosening soil, offering water, and waiting with kindness. Then something softens. New shoots feel safe to reach toward the light. Blossoms appear not because we forced them, but because the garden is ready.
The Promise Beneath Winter
Perhaps this is the truest form of reflection, beyond the image in water or glass, but the moment we see ourselves with compassion and choose to grow in a kinder light, just as winter slowly turns towards the promise of spring.
While winter remains, the light is lengthening in minutes we barely notice. Beneath stillness, something is already preparing to bloom.
Garden Dilemmas? AskMaryStone@gmail.com or tune in on your favorite Podcast App.
All photography by Mary Stone of the Art by Mother Nature
Join me for the companion podcast —a moment of reflection waiting for you…
Links to the Related Podcast and Post you’ll enjoy:
Ep 240. Nature’s Shadows, Outlines of Love
Nature’s Shadows: Outlines of Love & Hope – Blog Post
Video By Ellen Ebert: Casting Shadows
