In the Garden, At Last

Weather report:  High 55ºF, blustery, overcast with the look of winter coming back.   However, ProfessorRoush just doesn't care.  He's back from a relatively short vacation and, while it may not be a great day to kneel on the wet and cold ground to clear the winter debris from beds, there are still things that can be done.  Done if the will to garden is strong enough and the gardener's soul has enough fortitude.




 And besides, I have a Dutch crocus blooming!  And Scilla!!! One single crocus so far but I'm sure that more will come soon.  In my records going back to 2005, I don't specifically note the first Dutch crocus every year, but in only one year, 2014, was my note of the first crocus later (3/25/14) than this date.  In 2006 and 2012, I saw these blooming on 3/6 and 3/8 respectively.  So, right now, I'd estimate spring at around 2 weeks later than normal.

If crocus and scilla are the first signs of life in my garden this year, they are not alone.  Today, as you can see from the pictures posted here and below, early peony buds are breaking ground, and the ornamental Alliums are up and healthy.  I must get the Alliums protected from the deer soon!

I can already see that there are one or two minor drawbacks of my plan to post more often  so that you can experience my garden activities with me  each time I garden:  some of the posts are going to be long!  And the photos will be smaller to account for space concerns, but if you click on them, you'll be able to see the detail you desire.   Today, I spent about 4 useful hours total in the garden.  And what did I accomplish?

I started by planning to mow down my "rain beds" of prairie grass near the house so that they will green up faster and allow some extra sun to the early prairie forbs.  Mowing, however, was a longer chore than I anticipated as I started with a "surprise" flat rear tire on the tractor that had to be fixed first.  You can see Bella, above, running in the taller grass, but here is a photo of the back yard before mowing:

 And after:  Already I feel better!  One spring chore off my checklist!

Then, I moved on to clear debris from the asparagus bed and weed it.  I'm sorry, I didn't think to take a picture until I was halfway through clearing, but the photo at the left will give you an idea of what it looked like when I started.







And the photo at the right will show you where I finished; the asparagus bed is mulched with around 2 inches of aged straw that sat out all winter.  That should help suppress the weeds!  The next green things I should see in this bed are some delicious asparagus spears rising above the golden straw.

Other than the usual puttering around that includes picking up the occasional down limb or blown-in-city-trash, my last major accomplishment of the day was in keeping with my goal to garden smarter this year.  For the benefit of others who have the same problem, this is my solution to "pole-migration" in my shade-house over the strawberries.  You see, my shade house is on a slight slope from front to back.  I've noticed over the last couple of years that the long poles that run on each side, and to which the canopy is stretched, have a tendency to slowly slip from their sleeves out the lower side, extending sometimes past the electric fence and out of the garden.  Up until now, some occasional pounding with a hammer every few months would shift them back into place.  I noticed today, however, that one pole was very very far (as in 8 feet or so) out of the canopy sleeve, leaving it in grave danger of ripping off in the next wind.  So, I got a length of good old, stiff #9 baling wire, made a hook in one end to place into the pole, and then wound it around the upright so the pole...hopefully...won't be able to migrate.  A minor brain-storm to fix a now-minor but potentially major problem.  Let's hope it works.

Sorry about the long post, but it was a good few hours in the garden today!  I'll leave you with the promise of these deliciously burgundy-colored herbaceous peony buds, just breaking ground.

Encore! Encore!

I'm sorry, Mother Nature, you must have misunderstood me.  I was not shouting "Encore!  Encore!" in hope of seeing winter continue.  I was shouting "No more, no more!"  Not even the best available weathermen and scientists predicted yesterday that I would wake up to more snow from you this morning. When will it end?

You are getting old and hard of hearing, aren't you? Fighting to stay when you should be welcoming rebirth and youth.  Now look where we are, my crocus babies shivering and buttoned up to hide from your icy touch.  Trust me when I recommend that you let those last tired, cold, and scrawny bones of Old Man Winter splinter and crack back to dust.  Let winter go.  I'm done with it and you should be too. Stop trying to cling to last year victories and move on.  Please.

Let Spring cover naked limbs with fresh new wood, sprout plump buds that seep sticky sap, and ripen flowers that open to sunshine.  Let light green leaves be your epitaph, shiny new skin to cover the tortures of winter.  Let roots warm and stretch beneath the soil to welcome rain and feel the embrace of earth.  Let fruit swell and blush and drop for the nourishment of all.  Fight not against life's end, but welcome at last the cycle of renewal .  Live again as moonlight and warmer winds, as brighter sunshine and as dewdrops.



Oh my beautiful snow crocus, mere yellow streaks now, memories of the glorious palette of creams and yellows from only yesterday.  Will you come back?  Encore, crocus! Will you wait out the frozen rain to bloom again this year?  Encore, crocus! How much more can you take?  How much more can I take?       

Crocus cavils

Yesterday, notwithstanding the six inches of snow we received 4 days earlier, the temperatures turned a balmy 76F and my giant "Dutch crocuses" (heavily hybridized Crocus vernus) suddenly bloomed.

Crocus 'Remembrance'

I wait every year for these crocuses to be those first prolific little flowers to brighten up my beds, but in truth, I confess that I'm not overly fond of them.  Now, before my readers tune me out entirely, I admit that my misgivings about Spring crocus are few and these little darlings do have their fine points, some of which are not widely known.  I know for instance, from Louise Beebe Wilder's writings, that Dutch crocus have a really nice scent if you lay down on the ground at their level, and having done so at risk of being observed and judged harshly by the neighbors, I can confirm Ms. Wilder's observations.  Gardeners in general seem to rarely pick these 6 inch beauties and raise them up to sniffing level as they would do with most other flowers, so those who haven't read Wilder do not seem to know this fact (I'll leave that alone now since this is not the time or place for garden literature snobbery).  Perhaps picking these diminutive blooms smacks too closely to plant abuse for many gardeners, but however you go about it, give them a sniff.  Children, as noted by the esteemed writer Henry Mitchell in The Essential Earthman, seem to be particularly prone to pick these giant colorful blooms and thus are often more familiar with the scent of these beauties.  The quickest road to hell, quoting Mr. Mitchell, is to "growl at a child for picking crocuses."  Henry seems to share my general ambivalence about crocuses though, calling them "vulgar" and recommending more stringent measures ("a tub of boiling oil") for children who pick irises or lilies without permission.



Crocus 'Pickwick'

 One of my minor complaints against Dutch crocus is that the Kansas winds tear the blooms to pieces quickly if they are not in a sheltered spot.  Many garden writers, such as Lauren Springer in The Undaunted Garden,  make a strong case for planting crocuses freely in warm season grass lawns such as the buffalograss that closely surrounds my house, but I've found that the crocus survive to please me only in my cultivated beds sheltered from the prevailing Spring winds of the Flint Hills.  Shortly after moving to this land, I planted over 100 Dutch crocus in the center patch of my circular driveway, but their blooms survived on this flat plateau only a day or two, if that, before the winds swept them away. The overall mass effect also dwindled over five or so years to nothing, despite my efforts to refrain from cutting the grass in this area until early summer.  I surmise that between the summer heat and the surrounding prairie grasses, they just didn't compete well in this area. When the flowers don't stay around, crocus are just not worth the planting efforts.

I'm sorry that I'm not a connoisseur, but I grow only the most common commercial varieties, the old deep purple 'Remembrance' and the striped 'Pickwick'.  I'm not fond of the common yellow crocus 'Yellow Mammoth', because this crocus is a little too orange or brassy for my tastes, like that of the daylily 'Stella de Oro', nor do I grow the white forms of Spring crocus.  As the result of choosing only the darker colors, my crocus don't compete well for attention against the gray remnants of last year's mulch unless you're looking for them, and that drawback is all entirely my fault.  I do look for them though, every year, to confirm that Spring continues to advance towards me and to ease me gently into the massive displays of daffodil and forsythia that come shortly afterwards.  Short-stemmed, short-lived flower or not, what would Spring be without a few gaudy crocuses in the garden?