Though an old gardener, I am but a young blogger. The humor and added alliteration are free.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Devastation
This is what a night low of 25ºF does to a beautiful magnolia flower. The only casualties seem to be this magnolia and one other, an apple tree full of open blossoms, and the daffodils that were blooming. Thankfully, everything else, including the baby roses made it with minor or no damage. Until next time.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Stellar Magnolia
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Magnolia stellata 'Royal Star' |
My M. stellata is a cultivar named 'Royal Star', according to the label. Those wonderful waxy white blossoms began opening a week ago and seem to be peaking today. I believe this year's performance is the best of its short lifetime in my garden, and perhaps because it is reaching towards the heights promised at maturity. My 'Royal Star' is about 5 feet high and 3 feet in diameter, a bit below its advertised 10'X8' maturity, but still a respectable size to make an impact. She's reportedly hardy to Zone 3B, and I've never worried about her health, only about whether a late spring freeze would shorten the life of these blossoms.

So, if there's a plus side to not yet having spring rains, its that M. stellata is blooming in peace, petals unstained, perfect and beckoning in the sunlight. It is a sad thing to think that I'd trade all this beauty for a measly inch of warm spring rain.
Update: I wrote this before things turned bad yesterday. This morning my 'Royal Star' is almost stripped clean by last night's wind. Plus it's below freezing out there. A fleeting moment of beauty followed by bare nothing. I'll bet the dinosaurs went out the same way.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
A Thor Kind of Night.

We need rain here in the Flint Hills. Lots of rain. As a result, I've been waiting all week for the predicted rain this Saturday and Sunday.
Last night, we saw this thundercloud form just to our west. Mrs. ProfessorRoush was excited for me and for the garden.
And it did. Oh, we had a wonderful lightning show. My iLightningcam app triggered off 220 pictures in under 5 minutes. Click on the pictures if you want to see more detail.
I was happy to get the pictures, however, I had to quit because the cats kept rubbing around my legs. Standing in a lightning storm with cats rubbing their fur all over your legs is probably not a good idea. Think static electricity.
Not a drop to drink here though. Another storm also came and went to the south and east of Manhattan. Nothing. We've got a 60% chance here today, but nada currently visible on radar.
We'll see. It's going to get cold here again tomorrow. There's a predicted low of 27ºF here Tuesday morning. Maybe it'll snow. Does anyone else see a sneering face in the middle of this cloud pictured at right? Cause I totally think it's laughing at me.
Excuse me now, I need to go cover a few baby roses. And throw some more lightning bolts around. Stupid weather.
Update 2:46 p.m.; Got 0.3 inches rain at noon, but the predicted high today was 72ºF. It only reached 52ºF an hour ago and is back to 50 already with a stiff north wind. Yesterday, remember we had a high of 86ºF Predicted low tonight has gone from 38ºF to 32ºF a...a 54 degree swing in a little over 24 hours. And snow is now predicted after midnight. Tuesday morning's low is now predicted to be 23ºF. That would be a catastrophe to just about everything...lilacs, roses, magnolias, etc. Maybe I can mow it all off and just have lawn.....
Friday, April 11, 2014
Sensory Saturation

Prairie burns also have a number of opponents for various and sundry reasons. Burns from the prairies increase the daily ozone levels in nearby overpopulated cities; this serves to distract the affected public from directly facing their own contribution to the perpetually marginal ozone levels in these regions. Lately,widespread annual burns have even been blamed for contributing to the endangered status of the Lesser Prairie Chicken by destroying habitat, as if these beautiful and elusive birds did not evolve in the midst of frequent natural prairie fires.
Setting all of that aside for a moment, however, I always enjoy the majestic beauty of the Spring burns and savor my participation in the age-old cycle of burn and renewal that anchors the existence of the prairie ecosystem. Columns of smoke from these burns provide grand and epic visions when the burns are controlled, and can terrify and panic the greater region when they are not. The massive fire pictured above occurred recently on a beautiful spring Saturday and was on the horizon directly to the north of my house. At such times, one prays for an southerly breeze and good fortune to keep the flames at bay.
The most beautiful burns, however, occur at night, such as the one above. I captured this image of the living flames near my neighbor's house last night. He wanted to burn the pasture directly behind his house and I assisted, at times worried about the slightest gust of unanticipated wind and at other times bathing in the childlike joy of playing with the fire at my feet. The sensory impact of a prairie fire is unique and spectacular. Lines of fire grow from darkness, move forward, meet and blaze up, and then die back to charred earth. The sight and smell of rising smoke and the crackle of flames in the dry grasses fills the immediate universe. Smoldering piles of horse and donkey dung add earthy scents to join those of burning sage and prairie earth. Heat licks at your face while damp night air slithers down your back. Feet are sore from walking on the flint-strewn ground and muscles tired from spreading and monitoring the fire. At times you're still, watching the fire creep forward with tentative fingers, and at other times breathless and running to check a worrisome and suspicious area of smoldering debris. In the midst of a prairie fire, the Earth and the prairie and you are one, merged beneath the timeless gaze of distant stars in a black firmament, one entity enjoined in this single moment of today, in this cycle of cleansing renewal and rebirth.
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