Saturday, April 25, 2020

How Do We Go From Here



The plants know, nine times out of ten, the right time to leaf out.  As warm as it is, as many days as it has been, those plants ill-equipped to fight off a hard freeze have survived by delayed emergence.


Many plants developed strategies for managing cold at emergence; the delicate appears tough. A dose of anthocyanin may (or may not) inhibit freezing water within young leaves of columbine.


Garlic mustard in the lowlands, where the soils are wet, show significant purple coloration where the mesic, upland colonies do not. Those in the lowlands are often frost heaved, repeatedly, as the late winter progresses to early spring. This is the best time to pull lowland garlic mustard as the frost heave aerates the underfoot, easily compressed wet soil.


There is no shortage of venturesome Old World garden plants. Besides England's Creeping Charlie, which appears to grow at length under the snow, there is Russia's loved Siberian Squill, above. Lamium maculatum is found in all corners of the world and our woods. Later in our season, the European Bellflower and Eurasian oxeye daisy. The problem isn't from whom or where these came, but how to manage what we must live with, now that it is here.


Iris reticulata, planted last November. Could these little beauties be just as versatile and productive as those already mentioned? Does the mature gardener ask why certain plants are necessary; do they seek out only those from a New World palette? How do convenience, apathy, desire, culture inform our choices? For each choice there are positive and negative consequences, understood and misunderstood. What strategy do we have for making good decisions among so many emotionally ambivalent and intellectually challenging choices?


We have choices, but can make only one decision. Who's in that four jet plane, traveling well above my head? Are there five people aboard, or three hundred? Do we need to fly, should we tour the world? Who are we if we stop? We won't stop.


The sun sets late now. It has been dry, very dry, with no appreciable rain in weeks. I notice the sunlight on an oak twig shaken free by windy days.


Plastic laid on the septic slope to solarize the weed field it has become.


I take a lap around the house, stopping to notice the lattice rehab I recently completed. Framed by the rose trellis, I do not see the house as much as I see all the projects I have done.

1. Railing rehab 2. Build new railing 3. Jack up porch to attach new posts to concrete piers 4. Rebuild lattice 5. Replace sheathing, reside and paint 6. Build new, but lower, deck 7. Replace rotten door sill and and rotten door 8. Solarize creeping charlie, regrade, and install sod 9. Move climbing roses out of shade 10. Remove hydrangeas from south side of house and replant as a hedge along the driveway 11. Frame raised beds with cedar boards and add chips 12. Remove and replace rotted deck boards.




The house lapped, I pause to look at the lattice rebuild in the back. The setting sun warms the old pink still present under the porch, setting off the grey we chose to replace it.





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If I do not respond to your comment right away, it is only because I am busy pulling out buckthorn, creeping charlie, and garlic mustard...