Winter

It looks like winter outside, but technically it's still fall. We had a lot of winter this fall and not much fall. It's spitting snow outside yet again and the temps are just downright frigid. Later this week, the weather should be warmer. It really wouldn't take much.

As I look out my window, the fact that I never got my yard cleaned up stares me in the face. I move the laptop slightly so I don't have to look at the worst of it. My yard isn't neat and tidy as I tried to do for my clients. It's a mess – dead plant stalks, pots that didn't get put away. Is that a metaphor for my life? Aren't our gardens reflections of us? Most days I try not to contemplate such deep thoughts. But the holidays loom around the corner, I'm alone in the house, it's cold out and contemplation comes easy.

We got an offer on my mother's house today, the last vestige of her estate. My brothers and I became orphans this year and now we are only adults sharing (ever so slightly on my end) in the responsibilities of raising the progeny. We are the elders now and we are only in our 50's, each of us. How is it possible to be an elder at 50? How can we know what to say to the children when they ask us advice? We aren't old enough yet to know; there hasn't been enough life lived yet.

We are not stately oaks or cottonwoods that have learned to weather the storms with grace and aplomb. We are just middle aged trees hoping our branches won't break because no one has shaken the snow off. There's no one left to care for us. It is now us who must care for all the others. And sometimes it's just hard to tend our own gardens when we are busy tending others.

We will get a nice warm day in January or February. I'll be missing the work a bit and will go outside to tend my garden and put it in order. It would be a shame for all those spring bulbs to come up and my garden be a mess.

In the meantime, I wish you all sugar cookies and brightly wrapped presents, the smell of pine and a warm fire and wonderful, glorious holidays. Don't forget to water your trees and shrubs this winter if there is no snow and the temps are above 40. Maybe we'll have fall in the middle of winter.

Life and Death

I look out my window and see so much growing in my garden, my yard. There's blue and pink and yellow and white and orange. Grasses here, trees there, big puffs of smoke on the smoke bush that is taking over, grapes on the vine and currants on the bush. We've had so much moisture that bulbs I planted several years ago are blooming; they have never bloomed before.

As most of you know, I lost my mother and mother-in-law within 2 weeks in May. Since that time a close friend's mother has passed away, the husband of a friend and now today, I learn that my friend Gertrude passed away on Tuesday. As I see all this life, it is hard to comprehend so much death in so short a time. Gertrude especially hurt. I had not been to the nursing home since I got home in mid- June. I told her I would come back and I never did. She was in the hospital for 6 days and I never knew. I feel guilty I didn't make the time to see her. I tried on Friday, but got called away as I was going there. Her son said she didn't know anyone at the end. She always knew me even when she didn't recognize the others. I like to believe she would have known me at the end. I would have liked to hear her say “Hey, kid, come on in” one more time.

She was, as they say, “a spunky old gal”. She was 92 when she died, or 93 or 94 or 95. It depended on the day, the month, the year that you talked to her. She seemed to accumulate years in the last couple so I can't say for sure how old she really was. But up until early this year, she was still living at home, still telling me to plant flowers for her, still drinking instant coffee.

Mom was still trying, even though it was hard and getting harder. We talked about a trip to the redwoods, the one we didn't take last fall as it was on fire (we went to Glacier and Yellowstone instead). I think deep down she knew we couldn't go. Maybe she was just humoring me, making me believe. She was doing good when she came home from the nursing home the first of May; she was gone by the end of it. She never did get to mow her yard again.

Gertrude had been ready to go for a while, but her body kept going. My mom still had plans, but her body didn't want to go on. My mother-in-law hadn't even thought about it yet.

People ask me often why their plants died. Mostly I don't know. What makes one die and the one next to it live? Sometimes it's water, sometimes it's roly polys, sometimes the plant just isn't strong enough. At least plants don't mourn their neighbors. It's a good thing since those of us grieving really need the beauty surrounding us to keep us going some days.

Spring in Colorado = Winter

It's a bleak day outside. Snow is tinkling in the air; small flakes fluttering like crystal. It makes me hear the sound of tiny broken glass. Today feels like winter - the winter we here in Colorado haven't had until now. Work has been sporadic, not because of the economy, but because of the snow. It seems to be following a Monday, Wednesday, Friday pattern. I begrudgingly accept this white fate. Why couldn't we have had this moisture in January, February, even early March? I'm ready to work. Trees and shrubs are budding out, only to be frozen by these wintery blasts. Daffodils and hyacinths are trying to bloom, but shiver with each gust of wind. At least the tulips haven't opened yet.

But they are getting moisture with each of these storms - much needed moisture. Two weeks ago, the soil temperature was about 40 degrees. More than warm enough to plant seeds for the vegetable garden. If small seeds like lettuce had been planted yesterday, my neighbor would be harvesting that lettuce with the wind that has been blowing today. Our big snow storm didn't materialize and the wind is once again dessicating the land and leaves. It is supposed to be warm next week. It would be a very good time to plant those cool season crops now, like lettuce and onions, but let the wind die down. It will be much easier.

Peas are better planted in early April than in May. The length of night (not day) influences their yield, hence a larger crop will occur when planted in April. When planting peas, you can also plant carrots, radishes, spinach, swiss chard, leeks and turnips. Soil temperatures need to be about 40 degrees at a 4 inch depth for this group of early vegetables.

And don't worry too much about those frozen buds on your trees. They will bud and leaf out again. But early fruit buds may be gone. If you've planted later blooming varieties, you may get fruit this year.

Evergreens are going to see a lot of needle/leaf browning from all this dry winter weather and wind. There has been a larger needle drop this year due to lack of moisture. Those evergreens really need to be watered all winter long.

Alas, this is a day we don't see the likes of often in Colorado - a day without sunshine. It reminds me of the dreary bone-chilling cold days of winter in the south. But today in Memphis (my home town) was a sunny 70 degree day. I had the chance to visit my family there for 2 weeks in March. I watched the crabapples and pears and redbuds burst forth and the tulips build strong buds. The daffodils were just finishing when I got there. All the trees started putting on bright green buds while I was there and some even leafed out. I shouldn't complain about this bleak day, as soon the sun will be shining again and the crabapples and pears and redbuds will bloom here.

I will have been lucky enough to experience spring twice in one year.

An Octopus' Garden in the Shade

The other day I was helping my friend Sue paint her bathroom. Her niece and nephew where there and we were listening to Gabby's ipod which contained alot of Beatles songs. I was always a Stones fan, but the Beatles have some good songs. Okay, I digress. We were listening to Octopus' Garden. It was 60 something degrees out and of course it got me to thinking. If I was an octopus, what would I put in my garden? Or if I was designing a garden for an octopus, what plants would I use? A shade garden is hard enough, but under the sea? It would be a little easier since there would be water. Surely there would be coral bells. I suppose sea weed grows in the shade. Maybe I could use hosta for seaweed. There's a pink form of Japanese Maple called "Octopus" for its octopus-shaped leaves. I suppose an octopus would want something like that for a tree and certainly a Japanese maple would grow in that much moisture. There's a pink octopus campanula that will take shade. It grows in zone 5 too! There's a pretty cool octopus cactus that might grow here, but I doubt it would grow under the sea, or in the shade. One of the easiest plants to grow here, the state flower, columbine, looks kinda like an octopus. And martagon lilies also look like an octopus. I'm thinking I will have to try an octopus' garden in the shade in my yard. Unfortunately, it won't be under the sea as I water very little in my yard. But maybe the plants would be happy there with no one to tell them what to do. I'd ask my friends to come and see; we could sip some wine in the shade; I would like to be in an octopus' garden with you.

It sprang forth from its pot one day. I thought it would never come. But there it was poking its little head out, checking to see if it was okay to emerge. A few days later, a little more showed. Then, literally while my back was turned facing the computer and away from the pot, a few flowers popped open, pink. It had been 70 degrees out that day. I kept checking on it every little while. It did nothing while I stared at it. That night it turned cold again. I awoke to 17 and spitting snow. I walked in to my computer and there it was – it had jumped up out of the pot and became a full fledged hyacinth with more than a few fragrant blossoms. And a stem! It was standing tall and smelled of spring. Today it is snowing – harder earlier and now a gentle winter snow. Classical guitar playing in the background and the fragrant blooms enveloping me, taking me to 3 months in the future.

I planted more than one bulb in that pot; leftovers from fall planting; a job with no instant rewards. But the pink hyacinth was the only one to emerge, or maybe just the first one to take the risk and break out. Maybe more will come, but today in the bleak, cold winter, I have spring sitting beside me, bringing me promise and beauty and life.

Winter Watering

Today was 70 here in Denver. It was a glorious, bright, vibrant inauguration day. New beginnings in many ways. I saw the snow drops poking out of the ground and buds on the hellebores. The sun came up a little earlier, stayed up in the sky a little later.

While outside in the sun, the thought occurred to me that it was too warm for my jeans. It's January 20. My mother in Memphis said this morning that it was lightly snowing. This dichotomy got me thinking. I still have snow on the south side of the yard, the shadier side. I hope nothing besides the snowdrops think it is time to poke their heads out of the warming soil. It's too early. It's too warm. What will this do to our ever decreasing water supply?

One thing I do know is we've had a tremendous amount of wind in the last month. I missed out on the deep freeze Denver experienced, but have been here for the wind. The wind after that freeze and continuing even now will do much more harm to our precious plant life than any cold ever will. I urge you all to water, water, water on these warm, blustery days with no snow cover. Winter watering is just as important to healthy trees as summer watering.

A soaker hose is the best way to accomplish this. It should be coiled around the tree starting half way between the trunk and the drip line (the outer edge of the branches) and the same distance outside the drip line. I know this will be hard for some of you because of structures, walkways, streets and sidewalks. But do the best you can – or call me to help or install the soaker hose for you. A general rule of thumb for watering trees is 10 gallons of water per inch of trunk diameter. This is best accomplished using a slow watering method like the soaker hose. Taking a 10 gallon bucket filled with water out to the tree and dumping it really doesn't accomplish much more than creating a hole and drowning the tree roots.

Winter watering of trees is especially important for those trees newly planted. While the tree itself is dormant, the roots continue to grow and thrive. There is less stress on the tree itself if it's roots are cared for properly.

Evergreen trees are especially susceptible to the drying winds. Moisture loss through the needles is very common in Colorado. Replace that moisture loss by watering 1 to 2 times a month using a slow drip.
I hope you can take the time to care for your trees at least once a month during these dry, hard times. Our trees do so much for us by providing shade in the summer and blocking winds, some flowering in spring or summer and all glowing with color as they fade to dormancy, bursting forth with one last blaze before we forget their skeleton bodies in the winter. If you care for them in the hard times, they will be less stressed, less susceptible to bugs and blights and happier, healthier trees for many years to come.

If you have any questions concerning winter watering or any other gardening issues, please call or email me. Here's hoping your winter is less dry, with more snow and you, too, are inaugurating yourself into this new year with new hope for bigger and better things to come.