Blue Ice

The garden waits, entombed in ice.
Life suspended, frozen time.
Stiff and brittle, brown and silent.
Bowing low to winter's will.

Buried deep, it hides within.
Fire smolders, glazed in rime.
Ice the master, cold its maiden.
Staying spring with binding chill.

Blue the ice, reflecting sky.
Bluer yet, on cobalt glazed.
Crystal water stretches down,
Straining for the frozen ground.

Ice has come, and ice will go.
Sun will shine, new longer days.
Winter trembles, spring will win.
 Melting cobalt's shining crown.

Just a little ode to the ice storm that really wasn't.  Yes, we got some ice here in the Flint Hills, perhaps a quarter inch, more likely an eighth.  Not nearly the shel-icing predicted and simply an expected moment of winter caused by the collide of different weather fronts.  The only bright color in my garden is now the bottle tree, a shining gem with a fantastic multi-faceted coating.  It was for this moment that I cemented the post deep in the ground years past, stalwart against the worst of wind and storm, to shout defiance at the winter's worst.  I could only wish today for sunshine, to make it glisten and shine, if only for the briefest moment. 

The Garden Approves

Cope's Gray Treefrog

ProfessorRoush was adding a few "branches" to his bottle tree yesterday and had drilled three new holes, when he noticed some of the drilling shavings were piling up in the crook of a branch atop what appeared to be a weathered wood chip.  I reached over to brush the shavings and wood chip away and at that point the wood chip opened its eyes and glared at me.  Say what you will about the quality of iPhone photographs, it's always nearby and available, which allowed me to immediately snap these pictures of my new four-fingered friend.

Six species of frogs live in the Flint Hills region, and I believe this one to be a Cope's Gray Treefrog (Hyla chrysoscelis) or perhaps the Cope Eastern Gray Treefrog (Hyla versicolor), based on the characteristic enlarged toe pads.   The two species cannot be separated based on external characteristics, but only by analysis of their calls, chromosomal material, or size of their red blood cells.  This frog was already irritated beyond the point of making a sound and it was unlikely to appreciate any attempts to draw blood from it.  My references, such as Joseph Collins' Amphibians & Reptiles in Kansas,  suggest that H. chrysoscelis is the only one reported in Riley County.  These frogs are tolerant of high temperatures and climb to the treetops on warm, humid summer nights.

I don't know what this little guy is trying to say to me.  Frogs were tied with creation myths by early civilizations and worshiped as rainmakers.  There was even an Egyptian frog goddess, Heqet, who represented fertility and was depicted as either woman with a frog's head (yuck!) or a frog on the end of a phallus.  She was present at the birth of Horus and breathed new life into him.  In the Middle Ages, frogs became associated with evil and devil worship, likely from association with the three frogs of Revelations 16:13, "And I saw three unclean spirits like frogs come out of the mouth of the dragon, and out of the mouth of the beast, and out of the mouth of the false prophet."  I'm going to believe that my frog is beneficial and is waiting to eat any evil spirits attracted by the bottle tree (or mosquitoes, which are the same as evil spirits in my garden).

Oh yes, and, as you can see, I've already changed out the crappy green and clear bottles on my earlier bottle tree rendition.  I ordered two dozen cobalt blue bottles last Monday and then added one of our own and the two bright pink bottles to make 27 bottles.  Looks better, doesn't it?  The mauve roses blooming  in the foreground are Purple Pavement.  The pink bottles?  Well, you can call it further whimsy, but I have a theory that the pink bottles will lure the evil spirits near and the blue bottles will capture them.  Silly, but just as good a reason as any.  It seems to have attracted the frog, anyway.  The Smithsonian, the frog, and I now collectively approve of my bottle tree.

Wanton Whimsy

Gardeners one and all, please forgive me for the crass display you are witnessing.  I took a long step this past week beyond acceptable garden ornamentation, crashing and burning far past the gates of conventional decorum.  I created, in my unsuspecting garden, as you can plainly see here, a bottle tree.

I've lusted for a bottle tree for years and I still can't explain the urge.  It's like I am a Babtist preacher who keeps coming back to Mardi Gras.   I normally strive to maintain a garden that the general public will likely approve of, even as I push back against pruning conventions to the irritation of those who like their shrubbery carefully clipped and marching in step.  The existence of a bottle tree in my garden is a leap far past the line of whimsy for me, a singular incongruity like a wart on a princess.  I've flirted with whimsy before, bringing yet another rabbit statue into the garden, but until now I've stayed on the safe side, refusing to add figures of gargoyles and peeing little boys.

There are commercial bottle trees available, even an entire company dedicated to their creation, but I had to make my own.  For one thing, I felt the commercial trees were too small, usually under 5 feet tall and seldom holding over twenty bottles.  And they're pricey.  And I was worried about anchorage against the Kansas winds.   A bottle tree that has to be straightened after every storm would be exhausting.  So I created my own, cementing a treated landscape post into the ground so the trunk would be over 6 feet tall. I cut rebar for use as "limbs".  Best of all, I can add to it merely by drilling a hole and adding another limb.  I want lots and lots of bottles.

The King of Bottle Trees, Felder Rushing, who himself has fourteen of them, believes that bottle trees date as far back as men have made glass, from back when the belief arose that spirits could live in bottles and that evil spirits could be captured in them. Rushing also relates, and I agree, that blue-only bottle trees are the best.  Doubt me?  Click here to be convinced by a picture of Rushing's blue tree covered in snow.  Mine would be all cobalt blue already, but Mrs. ProfessorRoush and her friends insist on choosing wine for its taste instead of the pretty bottle it comes in.  Consequently, I have only one blue bottle at the moment, but the Internet may come to the rescue since I can buy a dozen cobalt blue bottles there for a mere $19.99.   I think making an all blue tree will really spruce up the bottle tree and my garden. 

(Get it?  "Spruce up my bottle tree?")