March Madness

   March lived up to its' reputation for making aggressive entrances, bringing on it's first day the worst snow storm of the season that cut a swath from Georgia to New England, burying everything in its' path under as much as twelve inches of snow. But, only a week later, it has redeemed itself with our first day - and a Saturday at that - when temperatures reached 70 degrees! Even those among us who are prone to doubt must acknowledge that Spring is finally here.

     My favorite bit of evidence of the changing seasons is the appearance of the Snow Drops, Galanthus Nivalis, in greater and more robust numbers than ever before. Yet another 

harbinger of Spring is the Skunk Cabbage, Sym

plocarpus foetidus, now blossoming in the wetlands nearby. Like the creature whose

 name it shares, Skunk Cabbage can, when its leaves are broken, emit an unpleasan

t odor. Still, I cannot help but admire a plant that, in a process called thermogenisis, actually generates heat to melt its way through the surrounding ice and snow!

     I am delighted to report that my bees have survived their first winter. Enlivened by our recent warmer temperatures, their first official act has been to carry out their dead. Talk about Spring cleaning! On Saturday, I sat and watched as they struggled, one by one, to drag the bodies of their fallen comrades out of the hive. Shortly, they will resume the cycle of foraging for pollen and nectar, comb-building, raising new generations of bees and of course, making honey, that will go on until, once again, cold weather drives them indoors.

     All of which reminds me of the chores that we gardeners must face. My arborist friends Alan Haigh and Erika Hanson, have already been about the business of pruning fruit trees to achieve maximum yield. The timing of this work suggests to me that it is best accomplished before the sap begins to run. I know that sunlight and good air circulation among the branches are goals of pruning but suggest consulting a professional for further information regarding your trees. 

Likewise, it is time to prune ones' Butterfly Bushes, Buddleia davidii, back, almost to the ground. In our zone six conditions, they respond by growing vigorously to a height of nearly ten feet, and are laden with fragrant panicles of blossoms. Come summer, they will attract a steady parade of butterflies, hummingbirds and other desirable pollinators. Readers who wish to reduce the numbers of weeds in their lawns should not hesitate to apply an organic, pre-emergent herbicide, like corn gluten meal, to stop weeds like dandelions before they get started and spread.

     I admit, I face quite a bit of neatening up and preparatory work before any planting can begin in my garden. There are weeds that continued to grow after the last crops came out of the potager last fall that must be removed. There is compost and well-aged manure that must be worked into the soil. Wood ash can be added as an amendment to the soil, but only with care. 

Only the ash from non-treated wood should be used, and then not more than twenty pounds per thousand square feet of garden. The addition of a garden inoculant to the soil can greatly increase the yield of your sweet peas and string beans. Consult one of your garden catalogues for more information. This year, I intend to use straw as a mulch, to cut back on weeds and to help retain moisture in the soil.

     So, if one is to plant peas on St. Patrick's Day, for luck, there isn't a moment to lose! Get those seed orders in, and have a good pair of gardening gloves at the ready.

Thinking Warm Thoughts

     Here in Bucks County, it snowed another eight inches this week, refreshing the blanket of white already coating the landscape. I guess this is validation of Punxsatawney Phil, the ground-hogs' prediction of another six weeks of winter, as if we needed it. Still, I won't complain, as this will help to ensure an adequate water supply for the coming growing season, something that my gardening friends in northern California are deeply worried about. They are experiencing another year of drought conditions that will only worsen if current weather patterns hold, preventing the planting and growth of many of the edible treats that we here in the snowy northeast can look forward to enjoying once Spring comes.

     The question is how do we get that "green" fix we all crave, while waiting for the first shoots of Spring to pop up out of the ground? The answer is as varied as are gardens, but a few effective solutions come to mind. Simplest of all - if you don't have some already, get some houseplants. Even if it is just a philodendron from your local supermarket, having some live plant will ease that craving for something growing in your life. Better yet, use a sunny window sill to start some herbs or salad greens. When it warms sufficiently to transplant them out of doors, you will rejoice at having  a "jump" on the growing season. 

     My own solution to this dilemma was inspired by a trip I made to Florence, (Firenze), Italy, in early Spring a couple of years ago. Before going, I read in one of my favorite books - The Ol

d Gardens of Italy, by Mrs. Aubrey Le Blond, (1912) - about a garden of a Villa Corsini Al Prato. ( I use the indefinite article, as there are several villas with gardens belonging to this venerable, princely family.) As it happened, this one was located not far from my hotel.  I resolved that I had to see this space, which was noted for its "bosco," (an evocation of a woodland), and statuary aligned in graduated sizes, the better to create a heightened sense of perspective. Never mind that it remains a private residence, not open to the public. I showed up with my camera in tow, and begged the "portieres'" indulgence, which, of course, he refused. "Privato, privato," he told me. Nonetheless, my look of sorry disappointment ov

ercame him, and I was granted admission, for ten minutes. "Dieci minuto." I thanked him, "gracie, Senore," and went in. After all these years, it was just as Mrs. Le Blond described it in her book.

 Hidden behind high walls, it encompasses nearly a block in area, right in the middle of the city. There are gravel paths bordered by boxwood, and (in Spring) beds of blue Scilla. There was one feature however, which I couldn't make sense of; located at regular intervals in the border were round ceramic "bases" nearly level with the

 ground. "What use do they serve," I wondered? The answer awaited me in a long narrow structure - the "limonaia" - at the rear of the garden. Inside, were rows of mature lemon trees in tub sized terra-cotta pots. One wall, which I assume was south-facing, had tall shutters, which could be opened to admit light and warmth on sunny days. Otherwise, the trees were sheltered and protected from the cold until warm weather returned. Come Spring, these potted beauties would be transported outside and placed atop these mysterious ceramic "footings" where once again they would furnish the garden, creating an allee of blossoms and, in time, the fruit that the Florentines use so imaginatively in their cuisine.

     This garden - and the Botticellis in the Uffizi - made an indelible impression on me. I couldn't bring the Botticellis home with me, however, I was determined to have a lemon tree of my own. Thanks to One Green World, the catalogue that specializes in exotic and semi-tropical plants, I got my (Meyer) lemon tree. The streets of New York (104th between

 West End Avenue and Broadway) provided me with a large glazed ceramic pot in which my lemon grows happily. 

     As for a "limonaia?" Well, as it happens, the basement here at Penrose Bungalow works just fine. It is cool, but warm enough, and windows permit sufficient light to nurture not only myu lemon tree, but bananas, a fig, a palm, a pomegranate and all of the semi-tropical plants that are too fragile to over-winter out of doors. 

     So, when the winter "blues" get me down, I know right where to go. If you need me, just look for me in my "limonaia," right downstairs.

January musings

     Now that the holidays are over and a refreshing new Presidential administration has taken the reins of power in Washington, my attention turns once again to the coming garden season. 

     I would be out in the garden now, pulling weeds, were it not for the six inches of snow and ice blanketing the ground. Still, one does what one can in these zone 6 conditions, which these days consists of curling up on the sofa, a pot of Grace Rare Tea Company tea (Assam being the current favorite) at the ready, and pouring through the stacks of seed catalogues that have arrived. I am tempted by the catalogues that offer discounts for early orders, or minimum expenditures that would consume much of my seed budget. And yet, I enjoy taking my time to decide what to order, then spreading my largesse around among a variety of suppliers. Indeed, it is tricky to decide who to choose from, when so many companies offer premium organic, and heirloom varieties. Still, one mustn't wait too long, lest a preferred variety sells out.

     I ask myself, "which new vegetables will I try this year," and "what was a success in the past?" Of course, it is helpful to take inventory of the seeds that are left over from last year, or that were gathered in and saved for this year. Then too, I consult one of the several maps I make over the course of the gardening season, especially of the "potager" to learn what grew where, and when. "Gardening is map-making," I always say; the goal being to anticipate how I might rotate my crops and companion plant for the most bountiful, floriferous beds.

      Indeed, the garden I encounter this Spring will be different in substantial ways from the one I started with last Spring, and not only because of the plantings. For one, the selection of tools available with which to work the land has improved considerably, thanks to my aunt Freda, who bequeathed to us most of the gardening implements left to her by her in-laws, Charlie and Inez Williams. They range from the simple, like a shovel for planting, to the somewhat arcane, like the thatching rake that has sat unused in her garage since Charlie bought it more than thirty years ago.  We were on the verge of buying a spreader until this trove of tools came along.   

     Nor shall I overlook our recent auction acquisitions, including a charming bench, strawberry pots and an armillary sphere and pedestal, each of which must finds its place in the garden. 

     This Spring I will have the benefit of my own hives of honey bees, Apis Melifera, which I got last March in fulfillment of a decades old dream.  Having the bees has been one of those "Wonderland" experiences, where the more I learn about them, the more there is to learn.  What they accomplish on a daily basis is nothing short of miraculous. I will have them, along with the Praying Mantises and Butterflies who make our garden home to thank for pollinating our crops and flowers.