A November walk along Jackson Creek reveals subtle beauty, something we can capture in winter planters.
Peterborough Examiner – November 21, 2025 – by Drew Monkman
November nature feels like the year’s quiet exhale. The frenetic energy of summer bloom and early fall’s explosive colour are now a muted memory. What remains is a landscape defined by subtlety, structure, and vistas that remained hidden until leaf-fall. November invites us to look closer.
A late fall walk allows us to recalibrate our senses to the subtle beauty that surrounds us. There is also a unique, bracing pleasure: the air is invigorating; the oppressive heat that can drive us indoors in summer is gone; and the biting flies that can disrupt quiet contemplation are no more.
Jackson Creek rail-trail
On a recent sunny, cold morning, my daughter, her dog, and I set out for a walk along the Jackson Creek rail-trail. The only sounds were the cheerful chatter of chickadees and the soft rustle of cedar branches as squirrels chased one another through the trees.
We began by walking along the creek’s edge, where vivid green mosses glowed against the otherwise muted landscape. We then headed up onto the trail itself. Although nearly all the leaves had fallen and the trail-side palette was mostly greys, browns, and pale yellows, a wide variety of plants still caught our attention. The asters and goldenrods, long past the days when they painted fields in purple and gold, now held abundant fluffy white seed heads—each seed equipped with a tiny parachute ready to ride the wind. On the goldenrods we also noticed the familiar round galls of the goldenrod gall fly, inside which larvae lie dormant until emerging as adults in spring. These larvae offer a dependable winter food source for chickadees and downy woodpeckers.
Other plants, too, held subtle rewards: the seed pods of white turtlehead, still packed with hundreds of seeds; the dark, upright fertile fronds of sensitive fern, their bead-like segments protecting spores through winter; and the low, circular rosettes of mullein. These first-year mullein plants remain green beneath the snow and continue to photosynthesize on warm, sunny days, quietly gathering energy for next summer’s towering flower stalk.
Brilliant berries against the gray
Although berries and other fruits seem somewhat scarce this year – almost certainly because of this year’s drought – an American bittersweet vine brightened the scene with its vivid orange and red fruits, standing out against the grey branches of the small tree it had climbed. Nearby, European buckthorn —its leaves still green even after falling— held numerous purple-black, persistent berries which attract robins, waxwings and sometimes evening grosbeaks in winter.
We also admired staghorn sumacs with their drooping, red clusters of fuzzy berries. Sumacs offer up a kind of emergency food for winter birds.
Had we decided to continue on to Lily Lake, we would have also seen the spectacular red fruits of highbush cranberry. Watching a flock of cedar or bohemian waxwings descend upon them is a spectacular sight.
Elsewhere in the Kawarthas, other fruit-bearing shrubs offer bursts of late-fall and winter color that snub the somewhat drab landscape. My favourite is the winterberry holly, a species that grows along wetland edges. Unlike the evergreen hollies of our gardens, this native deciduous species drops its leaves in the fall, leaving behind spectacular clusters of brilliant red berries that cling to bare branches. These berries are often ignored by birds early in the season but become a vital food source later in winter when more palatable options are exhausted.
Crafting a nature-based winter planter
For those of us who want to enjoy a touch of winter forests and fields closer to home, their essence can be captured in artfully designed winter planters. This is a chance to move beyond traditional evergreen boughs and showcase the beauty of native plants.
This year, I created a planter using materials gathered at my brother’s cottage north of Kaladar. My goal was to evoke the feeling of winter nature with as much plant diversity as possible.
I started with a two-foot plastic pot filled with soil. For sustained greenery, I added a base of native conifer boughs—balsam fir, juniper, hemlock, white pine, white spruce, and white cedar. I then incorporated vertical elements using small branches of trees that hold dead leaves through winter: American beech, ironwood, and white and red oak. In the centre, I placed a white birch branch, a stalk of mullein and a few red-osier dogwood twigs to add height and contrast.
conifers, oak and beech leaves, dogwood, birch, sumac and berries like bittersweet and
winterberry holly. (Drew Monkman photo)
For pops of color, I included a few fruiting twigs of winterberry holly, American bittersweet, and staghorn sumac. I also integrated a few sensitive fern fertile fronds, pine cones and bits of lichen for additional texture.
To appeal to the sense of smell, I tucked in sweetfern, a native aromatic shrub, and a few bud-bearing balsam poplar twigs—just a pinch of the resinous buds releases the scent of spring. I placed the planter in a somewhat sheltered spot by the door to hopefully extend its life. It’s been fun to see the planter “evolve” as snow has added another element of beauty.
Crafting a homegrown planter would also be a wonderful way to showcase your winter garden’s beauty. Harvest materials like sturdy coneflower stalks and their sculptural seed heads, glossy sprigs of English holly, the delicate, feathery plumes of ornamental grasses, and other natural treasures on your property.
Resist the urge to tidy up
For many gardeners, fall signals a final push to tidy up and put the landscape “to bed.” I usually resist that urge. The traditional practice of cutting everything back for the sake of neatness overlooks the garden’s role as habitat for countless creatures. Standing stalks and dried flower heads offer structure and beauty through the cold months—especially when dusted with snow—creating a winter garden that is far more dynamic than a flat, bare expanse of earth.
These leftover stems and leaves are far from debris. Many beneficial insects, including native solitary bees, overwinter in hollow stalks, under leaf litter, or inside seed heads. Delaying cleanup helps ensure their homes aren’t accidentally destroyed. Seed heads on plants such as purple coneflowers, black-eyed Susans, and asters also provide vital food for birds like goldfinches, while fallen leaves create foraging habitat for ground-feeding species including juncos and white-throated sparrows.
By embracing a bit of “messy gardening” and favouring resilient native plants, we actively support the life around us during the leanest time of year. Come spring, wait until daytime temperatures remain above 10°C for at least a week before cutting things back, giving overwintering insects time to emerge. When you do trim stems, leave 8 to 12 inches of stubble so bees and other species can continue using them in future seasons. Plants with hollow or pithy stems that are especially valuable for insects include Joe-Pye weed, swamp milkweed, bee balm, purple coneflower, sunflowers, and anise hyssop.
Short, cool, and reduced to nature’s fundamentals, these November days are not only a palpable reminder of the change of season but a time to appreciate the subtle natural beauty that surrounds us.
The year’s quiet exhale is not an end, but an invitation. This November, take a walk along a familiar path—whether it’s a rail-trail or your local park—and observe the subtle rewards that are everywhere. If you are so inclined, capture some of it in a winter planter. The natural world is waiting to share its resilient beauty and offer a fresh perspective on the turning seasons.
