From my perspective as a rosemary plant, winter is my greatest adversary. I hail from the sun-drenched, arid hills of the Mediterranean. My woody stems, narrow, resinous leaves, and deep root system are all evolutionary marvels designed to conserve water and bask in intense light and heat. I am not built for freezing temperatures, icy winds, or snow. When the mercury plummets below 30°F (-1°C), my internal water begins to freeze, causing my cell walls to rupture. This is a death sentence. My very essence rebels against the cold, which is why the concept of moving indoors is a potential lifeline, albeit a challenging one.
The journey from your garden to your home is a profound shock to my system. I am suddenly thrust into an environment with radically different light, humidity, and air circulation. An abrupt move will cause me immense stress, likely leading to leaf drop and a weakened state. The key is a gradual transition. Please bring me inside well before your first hard frost, perhaps when nighttime temperatures consistently hover around 40°F (5°C). Start by placing me in a shaded, sheltered spot outdoors for a week, then perhaps in a garage or porch for a few days. This gradual lessening of light and temperature helps my physiology adjust without going into severe shock.
Surviving indoors is a battle on three fronts. First, and most crucially, is light. The weak, abbreviated daylight of winter is a poor substitute for the full sun I crave. I need the brightest, sunniest window you have, ideally facing south. Without at least 6-8 hours of direct, bright light, I will become etiolated—stretching out weakly with pale, sparse leaves—and slowly starve as my photosynthetic processes fail.
Second is water. My watering needs change dramatically indoors. Cooler temperatures, lower light, and a pot that confines my roots mean I will use water much more slowly. The goal is to keep my roots just slightly moist, never soggy. Please test the soil an inch down; water only when it feels dry. My greatest indoor fear is root rot, a silent killer born from kindness and overwatering.
Third is humidity. Your heated home is an arid desert to me. The low humidity sucks the moisture from my leaves, often causing them to turn brown and crispy at the tips. Boosting humidity around me is a great help. Grouping me with other plants, placing my pot on a pebble tray filled with water (ensure the pot sits above the water line), or occasional, light misting can create a more tolerable microclimate.
It is vital to understand that I will not thrive indoors; the goal is survival. I will enter a state of greatly reduced growth, a semi-dormancy. This is normal. Do not expect vibrant new growth. My energy is focused on maintaining essential functions, not expanding. Please resist the urge to fertilize me during this time, as it will only force weak, spindly growth that my limited light resources cannot support.
