March Comes In Like A Lion

Uh-oh.....

Move over, Martha

Ssssshhh, don't tell Martha Stewart, because this idea is MINE, all MINE! I had to create a system of organizing for reference my plant purchase tags. I had been using the "shoe-box method." Whenever I needed to look something up I dumped a shoebox filled with these tags and poked around until I came up with the right tag. I was doing this with great regularity and annoying myself with the time it took. If I wanted to put in another columbine and couldn't remember what color had bloomed two months ago.........out came the shoebox. If a friend asked for the exact name of the achillea whose color is eye-popping (Pomegranate) ............ the shoe-box shuffle. If I wanted to know why Clematis Angelique wasn't sprawling all OVER my new trelllis.........shoebox dumping again. (OOOooooh, the tag says this dear little angel maxes out at 3-4 feet.) An idea was born. My first step was to find a ring large enough to hold my hundred or so tags, some of which have moved with me two times. Office Supply stores and online sources yielded ZIP. After weeks of searching, Hank entered the challenge and found this 3" ring at a craft store where it was intended to organize cards of embroidery floss. The next step was to punch holes in the tags in preparation for the most fun of all - alphabetizing by Latin name from Achillea to Veronica. I keep a fine-tip black flair near my tag ring so that I can make notes on the back to reference the nursery or where I planted it. Oh, and did I mention that it just happens to slip right down the handle of the wheelbarrow? And in the true spirit of garden sharing, if Martha comes knocking on my door for the copyright, of course I will oblige.

Footprints in the Garden

I confess to a pang of guilt when I remind myself that as much as I love our home, the lot preparation probably agitated a few birds and animals. And so we try to get back into the good graces of our woodland friends by planting bird-friendly plants and shrubs for their summer pleasure and inviting them to the bird feeder in the winter. Until my happy gardening season returns, a little bit of back yard tracking keeps me out of trouble and reminds me of another world.

The canine track below with four clawed toes is likely that of a dog, but because our neighbors never let their dogs roam, it imagine it could also be a fox. Our three year old grandson would like to believe it is a dino print.

These dear little prints match up with a junco or a sparrow.

I do believe a red squirrel has been making himself at home.

What have we here? Genus Hankus Americanus - the print of HE who faithfully fills the feeders every day. Neither snow, nor sleet, nor mighty gusts will slow him down.

I like that tracking gives me the reassurance that there is a life out there that exists only under cover of dark and starry skies. I've heard the owls, so I know they are there. But when insomnia strikes I really like thinking about things that come out of the silent woods, take a look around, and creep back in. There's something very mysterious and comforting about that night life.

There is one night visitor who leaves the best footprints of all and has been doing so for centuries:

best and coziest winter book ever!

nighty-nite

Let It Snow! (Please)

"In the bleak midwinter

Frosty wind made moan

Earth stood hard as iron,

water like a stone."

These 1872 words of Christina Rossetti and the picture on the left describe my January garden as the calendar page turns. The next line of this hymn,

"Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

snow on snow"

is wishful thinking. In this unusually snowless season I am growing impatient. Most of my perennials can shrug off the frigid temps without nature's blanket of snow But there are also a few tender perennials such as Flax and Geum, whose roots are not likely to survive being exposed to the winter blast.

I will admit that mulching is not my forte and in a bow to that admission I try to cut my losses by avoiding fragile perennials. But this year I planted my first mums as a challenge to my "wintering over skills." Openly facing the west wind, they invite destruction. Today I tried to talk them off the ledge. I first cut back and blanketed them with their own brown stems and blossoms. Their next blanket was a generous layer of leaves. After we dismantled Christmas, Hank cut several branches of our tree to lay atop the leaves to anchor it all in place. In May I will know if my efforts were rewarded.

When the task was complete, we put what remained of our tree out to the curb, inviting the obvious observation from passers-by. "Oh, those poor Cardinalis....what a pitiful Christmas tree they had this year.

Merry Christmas

The chores are done,

the bulbs are buried,

the roots are dormant,

the beds are chilling,

the arbor is lit,

the teakettle is on,

the earth awaits

and all seems right with the world today.

Merry Christmas to all!

The Nose Knows

What a difficult time I've had with this entry in which I intend to name my FIVE favorite floral fragrances. I've pondered all day, shuffled flowers in, shuffled them back out to let another in (and actually felt badly for hurting a flower's feelings). I considered the near impossibility of this selection process. I'm not including shrubs, so the heavenly lilac did not have to compete. After all the hard choices and with quite a mental list of runners-up, here we go - my five favorite scents in the combined divisions of annuals and perennials:

The rose could even be the universal favorite scent, as often as it is used in literature, love letters, poetry....... I never, ever smell a rose without thinking about my first prom, my first corsage. Funny how scents bring back memories, isn't it?

Sweet pea, so deserving of the name. A sweet fragrance in a most delicate, lilting way.

"lavender, sweet lavender;
come and buy my lavender,
hide it in your trousseau, lady fair.
Let its flovely fragrance flow
Over your from head to toe,
lightening on your eyes, your cheek, your hair."

Cumberkand Clark Flower Song Book 1929

The peony. It fills a room. In fact, it fills an auditorium. The townsfolk of my home town lined the graduation stage each year with vases of peonies from their own June gardens. I wonder if they still do.

Heliotrope - for it's rich and heady vanilla scent. I could re-write the bible with this one. Frankincense, gold, myrhh and heliotrope. I plant one of these each year close to the spot where I put my outside reading chair.

As I pondered these good things, it was only natural that a few plants crossed my mind that caused me to scrunch up my nose. And so, with no offense intended, I segue to my three least favorite scents:

I can't bring the pungent marigolds into the house for bouquets but they have their righteous space in the vegetable garden where their scent keeps insects away.

I truly dislike brushing against Russian Sage. But because it thrives in the spot next to my garden hose, it is inevitable. I will give it credit for its redeeming value, though. The deer dislike it as much as I do. I think it has done its part to keep them from nibbling away at "delicacies" such as the dayliliy buds.

When I saw Gentian Speedwell "Ramona" at a garden center last year I was arrested by its beauty. But the scent overwhelmed me on the long ride home; it was a most offensive traveling companion! The worst of the worst. I'm sorry Ramona, but you could have let me know before I paid for you. You will not have a place of honor by my reading chair. (But I still think you're pretty.)

How I would love to know what YOUR favorite flower scents are and what memories they bring to mind. Do share!