Fall's First Frost

Gardeners, I give you....Frost.  These are the sights that greeted the risen sun in my garden this morning; frost on the persicaria, frost on the buffalograss and frost to the horizon.  Yesterday's weather was supposed to be drizzly and cold, with a predicted high of 45F, but the particular weatherperson who made that prediction was a little bit wrong.  A little bit wrong like the engineer who said the Titanic was unsinkable. We actually had snow flurries most of yesterday morning, melting as fast as the flakes hit the ground, but snow nonetheless.  And yesterday afternoon, the high reached only 37F, eight degrees off the prediction and cooling already as I came home from work.  Couple that with a clear, cloudless night and this morning's thermometer showed 30F when I rose.

What does it mean, this first frost of Fall?  The hoarfrost was not a surprise and actually right on time, inevitable and almost obedient to the average frost date, October 15th, for this part of Kansas.  I've been waiting patiently for this day.  To ProfessorRoush, it meant that I could finally chop off the errant foxtail grasses who were trying to push that last seed out before winter and that I could safely start to prepare the lawn mower for spring; drain the oil, change the filters, and clean the deck.  It meant that I could proceed with planting those daffodil bulbs that have been biding time in the garage for the past few weeks.  It meant that I could mow off the peonies, and move some infant volunteer redbuds from an unwanted spot to their secret garden rendezvous.  It provided the impetus to gather the ornamental gourds and the birdhouse gourds from the vegetable garden and move them to a drying place.  All these things and more I accomplished today, on a beautiful, bright, crisp Saturday afternoon.

 

The first frost also brings death and sorrow.  The end of the roses draws nigh, buds caught napping by winter's cold breath.  Some, rescued by the shears, will yet open indoors, but many will blacken and wilt, unborn.  The leaves on maples and oaks previously dawdled, slowly changing from dark green to light, but now they will rush into color, pulling the precious sugar back to their roots.  I can almost hear them change now, murmuring in my subconscious, unseen brushes of reds and yellows and browns  working their magic minute to minute.  Blue-toned buffalograss turns tan and hibernates, waiting beneath the earth for summer's warm rays.  Now only straw protects earth from the footprints of the beasts, and the beasts eat the dead grass, the carbon of life's recent fires.  The garden withdraws beneath the earth and the gardener retreats inside.  We plan, and then we await last frost, the last gasp of winter.  In the river of time, we know that last frost will come again just as surely as did the first frost this morning.

Silver Shadows Anniversary

'Silver Shadows'

The appropriate topic I've picked for tonight, in an effort to interrupt my extended absence from blogging and my concentration on the more serious aspects of life, is a brief introduction for a brave young rose that is steadfastly blooming in defiance of the cooler temperatures moving in on my Flint Hills environment.

That brave rose is a Griffith Buck rose introduced in 1984, a beauty aptly named 'Silver Shadows'.   She is another of my new own-root children this year and so far this summer I've been pleased by her performance.  'Silver Shadows' is officially a mauve or mauve blend Hybrid Tea of classic double form and carrying 3" blossoms with a nice moderate fragrance of citrus overtones.  Now, in early autumn, I can see the mauve tones more clearly, but at the height of summer, this rose was a definite bridal silver, never bleaching to white no matter how hot the sun shone down on it. 

My 'Silver Shadows' only made it to about 18 inches tall this summer, but at maturity, I've read that she should reach four feet tall and she has an ARS garden rating of 7.2.  She managed to thrill me with about 4 bloom flushes during her first summer, with the latest flush the most full of the season so far (15 blooms on her small frame today!) and she is pretty healthy, with a little blackspot amounting to about 25% of the leaves at the end of the season.  As a mauve, she never gets as blue as the Buck rose 'Blue Skies', but she's much healthier than 'Blue Skies' in my garden and her bridal silver tones are unique in the rose world.

In the opening to this blog entry, when I mentioned that 'Silver Shadows' was an appropriate topic for tonight, I was alluding to the fact that tomorrow is my 31st wedding anniversary; the 31st anniversary of the day that Mrs. ProfessorRoush took a bold step down the aisle toward a rosy future with this eccentric blogging gardener.  As near as my failing memory allows, I think the roses at our wedding were white and pink, but Sweetie, I promise here and now that I'll still grow 'Silver Shadows' for our 50th.  

Shutdown Absurdity

Friends, in his own opinion, ProfessorRoush has done an exceptional job at Garden Musings, avoiding any mention of politics here over the now 3+ years I've blogged.  Only those who know my tendency to rant over seemingly minute issues can fathom what a struggle that has been, but I'm going to make an exception today.  The dam has broken.  The die is cast.  The Rubicon has been crossed.  The....oh, you know what I mean.

Last night, I was at a Riley County Extension Board meeting and the local Horticultural agent reported that he and the Ag agent had recently seen a new "weed", Tragia sp. and had visited the plant experts at K-State to identify it.  Now, Tragia, also known as NoseBurn,  is not new, since two species have been reported in Kansas, but it's fairly rare and I hadn't seen it before either.  In fact, it's not described at www.kswildflower.org, my go-to Kansas native plant site.

So I pulled out my trusty I-phone and went to http://plants.usda.gov/, where, to my surprise, I received the following message:

 
My Fellow Gardeners, that is way beyond absolutely ridiculous. It tells me clearly that the bureaucrats are playing games.  I'm in a fortunate place in my life, not old enough for Social Security or Medicare, not directly dependent on the Federal government for income, and not planning any trips presently to a National Park.  So I've been personally unaffected by the "Shutdown" and as long as the military and senior citizens get paid, I have enough of a Libertarian streak that I'm happy for the respite from government.   I was a little aggravated yesterday over the news of shutdown of the WWII memorial; I mean, the place is for walking around, do we have to barricade it off?  But to shut down a running informational website?  I understand that the information may not be immediately updated, but I'm sure that I can manage without the absolute latest information on a botanical specimen.  I suppose someone might offer the feeble explanation that no one is around to make sure Server #2115 doesn't overheat and subsequently burn down Washington, but the USDA Plants database isn't the only thing on those servers and I suspect those computer technicians are on the "critical" list of personnel anyway.

Recognize that I'm not pointing a specific finger here.  Blame the Democratic Senators, blame the Tea Party if you want, but they are all representing the people who elected them and we got what we asked for;  stalemate, which is almost as good as not having a government.  Shutting the USDA Plants database down, however, is nothing but a political ploy.  A pox on both their Houses.

The Silent Muse

Rosa 'Belinda's Dream'

When the writer's muse grows silent,
When dams bar long the stream of words,
the wisp of thought, the lilting voice,
the lure of prose and syntax choice,
What then stirs the pen to motion?
What then moves the soul to sing?

There are times when dreams fall mute,
There are times when plans unborn, 
endless paper, stark and vacant,
endless hours, waste so blatant,
How to start the torrent flowing?
How to keep the river running?

One starts searching deep inside,
One feels urging, surging meme,
and boosts it over dikes and walls,
and nurtures it through storms and squalls,
Why relentless moves the id?
Why the need, the itch to birth?

I must seek within the canyons,
I must listen to the voices,
look for sparks to strike the passion,
look for mood and there to fashion, 
Where and when and what to spew?
Where and how and why the word?

ProfessorRoush is working past a little writer's block tonight, hoping that a different pattern will stir up a few ideas from the depths of psyche.  The primary rule of breaking writer's block is to start writing.  Obviously, tonight that resulted in a poem with an odd cadence and rhyming sequence, during which I had a little fun with the What, Where, When, Why and How's of journalistic dogma.  Hopefully, a new week and cooler Fall nights will bring inspiration and release.  Meanwhile, a mildly misshapen 'Belinda's Dream' fits my mood, I think, pretty well.