Goodbye January

Above is the view from my kitchen table, where I sit writing today. At least the sun is shining on this last day of January, but we woke to single digit temps and a stiff breeze that let us know winter still has us firmly by the scruff of the neck. Every now and again we are given a little shake, as if winter wants to let us know it could break us, if it really wanted. I'm not going down without a fight, however.

I've been low this winter, not feeling up to writing much, and today's sunshine was enough to rouse me. Gourdo, who has to keep busy always, has been at work on a project, building shelves to house a television and books in our living room. Ooooh yeah! Food Network is on!

The house is turned upside down as a result of the bookshelf project. I think that is adding to the feeling of malaise. As soon as I'm finished with this brief, keep-in-touch post, I'll attack the disarray and maybe whatever order I manage to restore will help with the mood around here.

I'm starting to plan trips to the various home and garden shows within an hour or two from us, and I'm also looking online for seeds to start in March. I have a few items on my wishlist and they are proving difficult to locate. Is that because they won't grow here in Ohio? My garden research really heats up now that January is done. If I decide to start seeds indoors, early March is when I'll want to have seeds and supplies at hand.

Goodbye, January, you vicious beast! I'm glad to see you go! Photos by JulenaJo.

Flowers in the Snow

Although I seldom remember my nightly dreams upon waking, there was a period a few years back where I had a series of recurring, vivid dreams about gardens.

One such dream featured an overgrown, neglected rose garden that I would discover in the yard of a house that, in my dream, I was considering purchasing. The house was always different. Sometimes it was an eerie Victorian mansion, damp and ornate, but long-unoccupied--on the verge of collapse. Other times it was a suburban modular, plain and unappealing, also long-unoccupied but otherwise habitable. Several times it was one of the two houses I grew up in as a child.

In all cases, the thing that really piqued my interest was the garden. Dazzling, unusual flowers grew in an untamed tangle all around the house. Roses grew with wild abandon, canes rocketing out of the soil to reach dizzying heights. I always had to reach up and pull the opulent blooms down to smell them. I couldn't wait to lose myself in the garden, trimming and pruning and restoring order and the lost beauty of the original garden. In every dream, I had misgivings about the houses, but felt irresistably drawn to the mysterious, old, neglected gardens.

In another series of recurring dreams, I find myself walking in the snow. Suddenly, I come across a garden in full bloom. I'm stunned and marvel at the beautiful red tomatoes hanging on lush green vines and at scarlet poppies waving on prickly stems above a drift of white snow.

How does this happen? I wonder. What kind of gardener can make flowers bloom in the snow?

I wake feeling happy after these dreams, but I have no idea what they indicate about my psyche. Who dreams of flowers in the snow? What does it mean?

I carried a bouquet of dried flowers and seed pods outdoors for a photo today. I'm looking forward to planting lots of everlastings this spring. I like the idea of flowers that last all winter. I need flowers in the snow. Photo by JulenaJo.

Survival is Silent

The garden is quiet now. I can't tell you what day it was exactly that the birds quit singing, but they did. It's nothing more ominous than the approach of winter that has driven them away to warmer parts of the world. Gone are the bluebirds, kildeer, thrushes and wrens. The remaining birds are not singing. Survival is the mode now, not breeding. Survival is silent.

On warmish evenings, even as late as earlier this week, I would hear the occasional field bird--perhaps a horned lark?--twittering as it settled for the night. I might even hear a weak chirp of a cricket from the pile of foundation rocks where the barn used to be. Now they are silent, too. One more insect generation is gone, with the future buried in the sand and clay, waiting for the return of warmer days.

Our property is slowly evolving, an oasis springing out of flat farmland. As our trees gain maturity they will attract different kinds of birds, winter birds. These are the birds you might hear in the woods as they flit about looking for food: chickadee, cardinal, tufted titmouse, nuthatch, woodpecker. So far we don't have these, but one year we will. I listen all winter. December, January, February and March will all pass in profound silence. Then one day in April or May there will be the most magical song on the air. It might be the trill of a song sparrow. It might be the tinkling notes of the horned lark. Another winter will be done.

Note: The above photos of the horned lark, black capped chickadee, and cardinal are used with permission from the most awesome Ohio nature web site, www.ohio-nature.com.

Random Notes: The November Yard and Garden

A couple of days ago I snapped these photos of my flower bed and Gourdhenge. I made a few random notes about my November yard and garden. Doesn't the sky look leaden? It wasn't terribly cold that day though--we've been having rather mild weather so far. I haven't cleaned anything up yet for winter. I suppose I should take advantage of the relatively warm days we've been having to prune and weed and rake, but by the time I get home from work it's dark.

I noticed the grass has taken on a healthy green color again as we've had some much-needed rain this fall, but the lawn is patchy and full of weeds. I have heard that weed killers (glyphosate) should be applied in November, before Thanksgiving. I hope I have a wind-free day to tackle some patches of thistle that have sprung up in the flower beds. It would be nice to eradicate some of that problem now.

Many of the trees have lost their leaves already, but the Cleveland pear in my second photo is still a blaze of color. Attractively shaped and hardy, this ornamental tree is less prone to breakage than its cousin, the Bradford pear. I wish I had a row of them, but am happy to have even this solitary specimen.

In the third and final photo, Gourdhenge stands, a skeletal frame in the recently plowed garden. Gone are the riotous, lush vines that covered the structure and the surrounding area. The soil will rest from gourds, perhaps becoming the site of my cutting garden next year. Gourdo is experimenting with rotating the flowers with the gourds. Just as our local farmers rotate their crops of soybeans, corn and wheat, we need to rotate the gourds with other plants in order to help control disease and insects.

Cleaning up in the yard and garden now should reap benefits next year. I hope Mother Nature grants us a good weekend so I can tackle those chores before the really cold weather arrives. Photos by JulenaJo.

Silently Waiting

The garden cherub looked so peaceful and pensive all summer. He appears melancholy on the inside of the patio door, where he rests for the winter.

It's for his own good. I learned the hard way that most small statuary and garden ornaments need protection from freezing weather. A lovely mosaic birdbath lost all its tiles over winter a couple years back. I won't make such a mistake with this little fellow.

So he, and his companions, will remain indoors for the winter. I sit with them and we all view the garden until spring, silently waiting for the return of warmth and another season of growth.

Winter? Not So Bad

These terra cotta pots filled with lush, living plants thrive at my mother-in-law's house. I am embarrassed to admit that I do not have a green thumb when it comes to house plants. It's mostly a water issue, I think. I either under-water or over-water. Then there is the matter of fertilizer. Some? None? How much? What kind? Which windows shall I position them in? Southern exposure is too hot; northern exposure is too dark. Alas!

I remember a college roommate who filled an entire bay window with stunning houseplants. They were her babies. She spoke to them and coddled them and I always felt the plants responded. I admired her, but could never emulate her.

Much better for me is any plant grown outdoors. There Mother Nature does the work, and I take in the compliments. Ok, perhaps I am downplaying my involvement. I've experienced sore muscles and exhaustion from hours spent digging, sowing, cutting, raking, and weeding. Man! I get tired thinking about it. Perhaps winter is not so bad after all. I will read the catalogs and review my notes and daydream, daydream, daydream. It's all so much easier on the back! Photo by JulenaJo.

A Lark Under the Snow

Minus fourteen.
Fourteen
Below
Zero.
That's how cold it is here tonight. That doesn't even account for windchill, which makes it even more deadly.
Driving home tonight I noticed how snakes of crystalline snow seemed to loop and coil across the road, illuminated in the headlights of the car. The flocks of horned larks and snow buntings that I'd seen all week gathered in flocks beside the roads, eating grit from the snowplows, were gone tonight. No doubt they had settled in a field somewhere under an insulating blanket of snow, gathered in a tight knot for warmth. There were few cars out. Some wouldn't start. Others started, but took an impossibly long time to warm up. Roads were encrusted in crunchy snow, and underneath that was hard, glassy ice.
I'm glad to be home for the night. I'll just pile on the blankets and the Roxy and settle down for this bitter night like a lark under the snow.

What Madness?

Much of Ohio is under a winter weather advisory, and here we are expecting 2-4 inches of snow, single digit temperatures and I believe the wind is supposed to kick in later. It's not pretty--see how dark the photo is above? It was taken this morning well after daybreak!
To my mind this winter weather is gloomy and vaguely threatening. I just saw my daughter drive off to the classes she takes at the university branch campus. She was apprehensive about driving in this, as am I, but soon I will get in my little car and head off to the Library. People must have something to read in weather like this, after all.
Sometimes people remind me of ants. When I was a child I used to lay on my belly in the grass and study the mad scurry of ants in their relentless search for food. I think of this image quite often as I follow the flow of traffic to town for work and shopping. Unlike ants, however, our busyness continues even in the snow. What madness is this?
The thought that cheers me along is the knowing that, at the end of the day, there will be a steaming bowl of chili to eat, warm slippers for my feet, and a good novel to spirit me off to a faraway place and time. Gloom Photo by JulenaJo.

Beautiful Day for a Walk

I'd been looking forward to a Saturday sleep-in, truth be told. Gourdo, aka the Gourd King and my husband, had other ideas. Today there was a winter hike scheduled along the Miami Erie Canal towpath, and he had volunteered to help. Did I want to accompany him?
What I heard from the little voice in my head: "What, are you kidding? Have you lost your MIND? Leave me alone, for pity's sake. It's raining ice, man!"
What I heard coming out of my mouth: "Sure. I'll go!"
Argh!
This exchange took place at 7:30 a.m. during an ice storm. Can you believe it? Nevertheless, I was committed to the long haul, and off we went. At first, I thought we'd be set up serving hot chocolate, coffee, yogurt and granola bars at the starting point of the hike, but that station was covered. Then I thought I'd be encamped at the Miami Erie Canal Corridor Authority (www.meccainc.org) center in case visitors showed up. Just as I was settling down at the center wishing I'd brought a good book or my knitting along, Gourdo called from the trailhead asking, "Do you want to hike?" Again, there played the dissonance between mind and mouth, and before I knew it we were crunching along an icy towpath.
Ohio was divided in thirds by two canals hand-dug in the early 1800s. The Ohio and Erie Canal is on the eastern part of the state and the Miami and Erie Canal runs though the western part, where I live. At the time, the canals opened up not only the state but the heart of the settled nation for commerce by linking Lake Erie and the Ohio River.
Though canals were quickly put out of business by more efficient railroads, many of the communities that sprang up along the canals seem reluctant to let them go--and for good reason. The towpaths offer excellent hiking, and in this neck of the woods, it coincides with the Buckeye Trail, a hiking loop through the entire state (www.buckeyetrail.org). Feeder ponds and Grand Lake, a vast manmade reservoir created to provide canal water, now provide sporting types with great fishing and boating. Wildlife enthusiasts may be rewarded with sightings of abundant birds, including bald eagles, great blue herons and ducks. Small mammals abound, as well as the occasional deer or coyote. In addition, the canal and its locks are historical treasures.
Today our historical treasure was covered in ice, though. Sleet pelted us as we hiked a short 2-mile section of the towpath, encrusting and thoroughly drenching my cheap parka. In spite of the elements, we encountered several intrepid hikers, and they all (I am not even kidding) greeted us with, "Beautiful day for a walk, isn't it?" I couldn't tell if they were being sarcastic or not, so I just agreed with them.
Due to the sleet, I kept my head down for the hike. There were lots of rabbit tracks along the trail. We saw big flocks of Canada geese. The prettiest things were the icy teasel heads and wild rose hips that grew in swaths on each side of the trail. Although I feel like my thighs might never thaw, I'm glad I went. It really was a beautiful day for a walk. Winter Walk photos by Gourdo.

Darkness Descends

Tonight I got off work at 7 PM, and it was nearly dark outside. That, to me, is the worst thing about winter: lack of light. Natural sunlight is magical. It elevates the mood and provides Vitamin D, necessary for the prevention of rickets. Who wants rickets? We need Vitamin D, and while milk is fortified with it and other foods contain it naturally, as little as 10 minutes of exposure to sunlight a day can provide a person with all the Vitamin D her or she requires.
For me, shorter days lead to SAD: Seasonal Affective Disorder. I crave carbs, experience feelings of sadness, and have difficulty focusing. Like a bear, I wish I could hibernate and wake up come spring.
Last year I kept the symptoms to a minimum by learning to tat. I went crazy tatting all kinds of things. It was therapy. Now that the garden is basically done, except for a few winter chores, I hope to pick up my tatting shuttle again. And paintbrush, too. Creativity is the cure for the blues when winter darkness descends. "Dusk" photo by JulenaJo.

Bye, bye 'Flutterbye.'

Bye, bye 'Flutterbye.' (Pictured above.) And goodbye to everyone else in the garden, too. Temperatures remain warm during the day, but cool dramatically at night. The shorter days are signaling summer's end to the growing things in the yard and garden. Wyatt, my daughter's quarter horse, is starting to look a little rough and fuzzy, too. Winter is coming soon, even if it doesn't feel like it most days. I'm trying to mentally ready myself for it. "Flutterbye" photo by JulenaJo.