Ep 240 - Nature’s Shadows, Outlines of Love

In winter’s long light, shadows reveal more than darkness—they outline memory, love, and quiet hope. Mary reflects on Groundhog Day, Peter Pan’s lost shadow, Jung’s shadow self, and the beauty of moonlit snow, weaving garden wisdom with personal healing. From plant care to letting go, this episode explores how light and shadow together shape resilience, reminding us that even in sorrow, hope gently walks beside us. 

Link to the Companion Blog Post: Nature’s Shadows: Outlines of Love & Hope

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Related Podcast you’ll enjoy: 

Ep 192 Groundhog Day - Ancient Origin and Accuracy

Ep 123 Keeping Lighting Pollinator-Friendly

Ep 84 Winter Season of Growth

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I'd love to hear your garden and nature stories, as well as your thoughts on topics for future podcast episodes. You can email me at AskMaryStone@gmail.com. 

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Mary Stone, Columnist & Garden Designer

More about the Podcast and Column:

Welcome to Garden Dilemmas, Delights, and Discoveries.

It's not only about gardens; it's about nature's inspirations, about grasping the glories of the world around us, gathering what we learned from Mother Nature, and carrying these lessons into our garden of life. So, let's jump in, in the spirit of learning from each other. We have lots to talk about.

Thanks for tuning in, Mary Stone
Garden Dilemmas? AskMaryStone.com
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Transcript

Ep 240 Nature's Shadows-Outlines of Love

Sat, Feb 07, 2026 8:19PM • 13:28

SUMMARY KEYWORDS

Garden dilemmas, nature inspirations, shadows, winter landscape, Groundhog Day, shadow self, shadow work, garden design, moon shadows, light and shadow, plant health, dappled shade, garden lighting, resilience, hope.

SPEAKERS

Mary Stone

Mary Stone  00:00

Mary, Hello, fellow lovers of all things green. I'm Mary Stone, and welcome to garden dilemmas, delights and discoveries. It's not only about gardens, it's about nature's inspirations, about grasping the glories of the world around us, gathering what we learn from Mother-Nature, and carrying these lessons into our garden of life. So, let's jump in, in the spirit of learning from each other, we have lots to talk about. 

Mary Stone  00:26

Hello there. It's Mary Stone on the screen porch, and Jolie joined me. It feels like a heat wave. It's like 25 degrees. Woke up to nine, but trending a little warmer than it's been, which is kind of nice. Dog boots do not work well. So those single digits haven't been fun for Jolie. Has it been Jolie? She's been tearing around the snow today. It's been such a delight to cross-country ski around the yard. Anyway, Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow on Groundhog Day, which is always February 2, as we discussed in Episode 192, Groundhog Day, ancient origin and accuracy. Phil's six-week predictions have not been accurate that often. In fact, only 39% of the time. Not to be a spoiler, it's a fun story, so I invite you to tune into it. I'll put a link in the show notes. Seeing his shadow is said to mean six more weeks of winter, or maybe it simply means it was a glorious sunny day, and it surely was. And that brings me to how much I adore shadows in the snow, in the garden and in life, which is today's topic. 

Mary Stone  01:35

But before that, I'd like to thank those who reached back after our last chat, What Yellow Leaves Teach Us About Tending House Plants and Hearts Through Seasons of Change. I especially want to thank you for your kind words about my difficult life transition. It means so much. Sharing our feelings and receiving support from friends truly helps steady us, doesn't it? Thank you, my friends. A quick correction on repotting house plants. I mentioned a cactus succulent mix for the money tree, but the soil you use depends on the plant. Most house plants prefer an all-purpose mix, while succulents and certain tropical plants like money trees prefer Sandy, fast-draining blends labeled cactus or succulent mixes, and orchids require bark-based media, so that was something I missed in our last chat. But on to this week's story, and it starts like this. 

Mary Stone  02:31

Hello, fellow lovers of all things green in winter, especially when the landscape is covered in snow, long shadows decorate the white canvas. Last week, while my brother Rick was visiting, I commented on how much I adore them, right up there with the ice crystals on the windows. I think of shadows and garden design, too. But yesterday, now that the dust has settled from my life partner moving out his things, I felt the heart tugs of the shadows left behind, a grief set in milder than in the early days of his departure, yet sadness indeed. How can some shadows feel lovely while others feel heavy? 

Mary Stone  03:12

It makes me think of Peter Pan and his shadow. You likely know, the character created by Scottish novelist J M Barry, an adventurous and somewhat mischievous boy who can fly and never grows up in the story, startled by Nana the dog and Mrs. Darling entering the nursery, Peter jumps out of the window, which closes abruptly and separates him from his shadow on his next visit, he tries to reattach it with a bar of soap, to no avail, and tears of frustration followed. Wendy, the older sister, gently sews it back on with a needle and thread. Peter reacts with pride rather than gratitude. Oh, the cleverness of me. Yet there is something tender in the moment, this idea that a shadow once lost longs to be made whole again, and perhaps that is true for us too.

Mary Stone  04:08

Carl Jung later gave this feeling a name through the idea of the shadow self, the hidden parts of our nature we tuck away hidden fears, anger, selfishness and sometimes even positive things like creativity, when ignored, they may surface as blame projection or self-sabotage, but when gently acknowledged with what some call shadow work, they can be transformed into wisdom and peace. I think of this like a garden bed, perhaps neglected when life gets in the way. I once had a toad in the garden that showed itself during a fall clean-up, but the clean-up wasn't spring. It was during my mom's failing years, and I felt so bad about my neglected garden, but that Toad spoke to me, saying, It's okay tend to things when you can. What Lies Beneath that neglected garden may seem hopeless, yet with gentle tending, loosening the soil, bringing in the light, and adding nourishment, new growth appears. The very place we neglected due to life's challenges becomes a place of renewal, as it did for me that day. 

Mary Stone  05:20

Often, while walking along the road, I look at the shadows of Jolie and me and think of the shadows of Ellie and me that came before her love leaves outlines that linger across cultures. Shadows are seen as more than the absence of light. Some imagine them as quiet companions of the spirit, echoes of the soul walking beside us. Others see them as reminders that our inner world deserves care and protection. To me, a shadow feels faithful, a presence shaped by light, never leaving our side. I think of shadows as companions of My Spirit, reflections cast by the generous Sun, which gives life to our world without asking anything in return. 

Mary Stone  06:05

And then there are Moon shadows, the ones I adore most when they appear crisp across the fresh snow. I remember cross-country skiing under a full moon, the landscape glowing softly, every movement illuminated by the soft light. Moon shadows feel quieter, gentler, like whispers of hope. Shadows also shape the gardens and landscapes we love. The shadows of pergolas and trellises create intimacy in small spaces, while in larger spaces, they provide structure and rhythm. Shadows bring depth, drama, and contrast, offering relief for shade, loving plants, and guiding the eye through the landscape, throughout the day and across the seasons, they shift, turning still places into living scenes. They add visual layers, transforming walls and fences into something dynamic. They protect plants from scorching sun, reminding us that placement matters. They define outdoor rooms, and perhaps most beautifully, they create mood, mystery, calm, coolness, balancing brightness with rest. 

Mary Stone  07:17

We spoke before about landscape lighting and kindness to pollinators in Episode 123. I designed lighting to extend the enjoyment of gardens after dark, shaping evening shadows just as intentionally as daytime ones. And then, as the night deepens, I turn off the lights so wildlife can carry on with their quiet, essential work. 

Mary Stone  07:43

Of course, light and shadow also guide plant health. Catalog terms feel confusing: part sun, part shade, full sun, and full shade. It's funny, part sun and part shade aren't they the same thing, and they are, in a way, they both mean four to six hours of direct light. However, part-shade plants prefer morning sun with afternoon protection from the sun, while part-sun plants tolerate the stronger afternoon rays. Many plants, especially in warmer climates, welcome that afternoon relief. Full sun means six more hours of direct, unfiltered light. Then there's dappled shade beneath trees and shrubs. I think of dappled shade as a gentle kind of part shade, the kind created by fluttering birch leaves revealing glimpses of the stem and the sky. 

Mary Stone  08:33

Paper birch, Betula papyifira, with its luminous white bark, is hard to find now in the trades due to the borers that have infected the plant, yet I cherish a stand that still grows healthfully on what I call the top of the world, the Camelback Mountain in Pennsylvania, where I ski. I haven't been there in a while, and perhaps that, too, is a shadow waiting for light. Full shade, as you would expect, is fewer than two to four hours of direct sun. But even there, beauty thrives so peacefully. Each morning as the sun rises through the woods, I marvel at light peeking through trunks, casting long shadows across the snow or the fallen leaves in the fall, or the returning ferns come spring. I think of it as God winking a quiet reassurance at the start of the day.

Mary Stone  09:30

There's a photograph from January 2015, framed above my desk. I titled it hope. The photo was taken just weeks after my brother passed away. At that time, I didn't think of it as hope, only the breathtaking beauty of long shadows after a winter storm. About a year later, I understood the moment was hope. Now, instead of focusing on loss, I cherish what once was. Now my brother's love feels like a shadow that never leaves, just as the grief I feel over the end of a long relationship, though real, sits beside gratitude for the good years in this shared love.

Mary Stone  10:15

A dear client, Tara, wrote to me recently. She enrolled in the Rutgers Master Gardener class after deciding not to renew her 36-year-old physical therapy license following a shift in her health over the last four years. She said it was a painful decision, but an honest letting go. She said one of our January episodes helped her to let go of what no longer suited her and embrace what does I know she's going to do so beautifully, helping others in their gardens. Her courage reminds me of episode 84 in a conversation at a hospice luncheon, Suzanne said winter was her favorite season, because without leaves, you can truly see the tree's personality, twists, zigzags, sculptures in the snow revealed only in stillness, and yes, the shadows in the snow, even Moon shadows.

Mary Stone  11:09

Cat Stevens' song "Moon Shadow" was inspired by seeing his shadow cast by moonlight for the first time, away from city lights. The song carries a message of resilience, accepting change, and trusting that loss may also bring release. Oh, I'm being followed by a Moon Shadow. But what if a shadow isn't something chasing us, but something walking beside us? What if it is proof that light is still present, even when we cannot see the source directly? Perhaps that's where all of these threads meet, Groundhog shadows, garden shadows, heart shadows, Moon shadows, each one reminding us that light and darkness are partners, revealing shape, depth, and meaning. So, if you find yourself in a shadowed season, take heart. Look closely. There may be beauty outlining the snow. There may be structures forming in the garden. There may even be hope quietly following you home in the moonlight. And maybe, just maybe, the shadow is not the end of the story, but the knowing that light is still shining.  Garden dilemmas, ask Mary Stone.com.

Mary Stone  12:26

So thank you, my kind listeners, for joining me on this very cold day, but the sun is shining, casting long shadows that bring warmth to our hearts. I hope you'll notice the shadows in your life and know that even those shadows that hurt will soften and the beauty will shine through as you remember the gifts of the times that have passed, despite the hardships, there is indeed hope I look forward to the next time on the screen porch. Have a beautiful day. 

Mary Stone  12:57

You can follow Garden Dilemmas on Facebook or online at Garden dilemmas.com and on Instagram at hashtag. Mary Elaine Stone's Garden Dilemmas, Delights, and Discoveries is produced by Alex Bartling. Thanks for coming by. I look forward to chatting again from my screen porch and always remember to embrace the unexpected in this garden of life. Have a great day. You.