




POP, pop, pop!!!!
(April Toonmoose Blog) April 7, 2010
“Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop!!!!!” Hear that? It is the sound of Spring, erupting in a torrent of blossoms, in response to the spectacular warm weather we here in the Northeast are enjoying. Don’t blink, or you’ll miss the appearance of the Spring Ephemerals like Sanguanaria Canadensis, (Bloodroot), Tussilago Farfara, (Colts Foot), and Erythronium Americanum (Trout Lily).
Today, we have reached 92 degrees with no humidity and clear skies. The daffodils are going full tilt, their trumpets raised to the sun. In the course of an afternoon, the peach and cherry trees have formed clouds of pink, silky petals tremulant in the slightest breeze.
In the potager, the peas, snow peas, kale and spinach seeds have germinated and are leaping out of the ground. What a difference a few weeks have made!? When last I wrote, there was still snow, mounded up in the corners of parking lots. Now, it is mounds of green, as in the tendrils and leaflets of seedlings and, (unfortunately), weeds, that are covering the Earth. Who could fail to feel rejuvenated by all of this botanical activity?
One sad discovery this Spring, was the loss of my bees over the winter. Whether they succumbed to the harsh weather or some illness, I cannot say, though I will report this information to the Apiary Inspectors of America and the USDA-ARS Beltsville Research Laboratory, who are doing their best to keep track of these developments. It is my hope to replace the bees by the end of the month. I already miss their presence, buzzing about in the garden. In the interim, wasps, bumblebees and butterflies, Nature’s volunteers, form the vanguard of this seasons pollinators. The exciting news is that I also made the discovery, as of some abandoned treasure, of honey, in each of the two hives, making for my first honey harvest! How thrilling!?! Truly, it is the best honey I have ever tasted, invigorating to the palette. It is exciting to eat something so absolutely pure, in that it has come to me just as Nature made it. In fact, I got not one, but TWO honeys, since although the hives sit quite close to one another, the honey in the hive on the left is distinctly more amber in color, with a unique flavor profile, while the honey of the hive on the right is visibly more golden in color, and has yet another flavor profile. I could swear that the amber colored honey displays hints of citrus, though there are no citrus groves to be found near us, here in zone 6. Both honeys have a beguiling floral aroma, compressed from the millions of blossoms it required to produce the pounds of honey the bees made. Still, it seems clear that each hive found different foraging grounds – information they did not share with their neighbors. I am more committed than ever to including pollinators, particularly honeybees, as a vital part of this, or any garden. When I presented my neighbor Scott with a jar of honey, he declared that he had a better tomato crop than ever last year, an improvement he attributed to the bees. I think of it as a privilege to host these marvelous creatures.
Although it is early in the season, already I can see certain patterns emerging that bode well for a productive gardening year. “J,” outfitted in his “holey kneed” gardening jeans excels at weeding and preparing the beds with applications of manure and wood ash (nitrogen). Then, I come along with my interpretation of a Navajo “gish,” or planting stick - in this case, a multi-branched length of syringa vulgaris (Lilac) to make furrows and plant seeds, creating my own “planting prayers” as I go. If you would like a Navajo planting song to get you inspired, here is one you can try. Happy gardening!
Song in the Garden of the House of God (from the Navajo corn-planting ritual)
Truly in the east
The white bean
And the great corn plant
Are tied with the white lightning.
Listen! rain approaches!
The voice of the bluebird is heard.
Truly in the east
The white bean
And the great squash
Are tied with the rainbow.
Listen! rain approaches!
The voice of the bluebird is heard.
From the top of the great corn-plant the water gurgles, I hear it;
Around the roots the water foams, I hear it;
Around the roots of the plants it foams, I hear it;
From their tops the water foams, I hear it.
The corn grows up. The waters of the dark clouds drop, drop.
The rain descends. The waters from the corn leaves drop, drop.
The rain descends. The waters from the plants drop, drop.
The corn grows up. The waters of the dark mists drop, drop.
Shall I cull this fruit of the great corn-plant?
Shall you break it? Shall I break it?
Shall I break it? Shall you break it?
Shall I? Shall you?
Shall I cull this fruit of the great squash vine?
Shall you pick it up? Shall I pick it up?
Shall I pick it up? Shall you pick it up?
Shall I? Shall you?





full of the last flowers of the season: Dahlias and Roses, American Calicarpa (purple) and Buddleia. Sitting on the dining room table, these blossoms continue to radiate the warmth of summer, holding the coolness of autumn at bay for a few extra hours. So, “Where have I been?” you ask, and rightly so. I apologize for not having made an entry since late summer. I do have what I believe are credible explanations for my absence, if you care. In August, I confess to having been slightly exhausted from our gardening efforts leading up to the Bucks Beautiful competition judging. When that was over, it was such a relief not to HAVE to pass hours each day, on ones hands and knees tearing at the pernicious roots of weeds, let alone documenting it.
succumbed to an aggressive cancer. Even as I write these words I have a hard time accepting the reality and finality of their meaning. Deborah had such a vibrant personality, as any of her many friends would tell you! This was reflected in the plants she nurtured around her. She loved lush growth and even “lusher” efflorescence. Think towering Eupatorium, enormous Hostas or a monster Night Blooming Sirius, climbing out of its’ pot! Oh, how I remember her excitement upon arriving from Florida, as she did her first garden tour of the season, taking note of all that survived the winter.
storm over my neighborhood on the Upper West Side, leaving serious damage to our parks in its wake. In Riverside Park, upwards of seventy large trees were lost, and in Central Park, nearly two hundred mature trees came down, lending a denuded appearance to parts of these neighborhoods. The danger of falling branches actually caused the temporary closing of the 103rd St entrance to Riverside Park, much to Jaspers’ chagrin. For days after the storm, the sound of wood chippers devouring fallen limbs reverberated off the stately facades of Riverside Drive and Central Park West. The mountains of mulch they made still dot the local landscape. One can only hope that the lost trees will be replanted as soon as possible.
As if these activities weren’t enough to keep me occupied, I have also given a great deal of attention to designing a garden feature for an historic property in New Jersey. While this is likely to remain an unrealized project, it is so appealing an idea to me that I have worked on writing about it as though it might actually come to fruition. The hope is that this idea may serve to inspire the imaginations of the committee that is charged with determining the property’s future. More about this, to come.



As with so many things, J led the way, often appearing in the garden before seven AM, outfitted with straw hat, rubber-coated, stretch gloves, a foam knee-pad and his favorite gardening tool, a wooden-handled “claw” bought at a flea market for fifty cents. “Crocs” for our feet, of course. Jeans, that started the summer with mild wear at the knee, would, in the coming days develop gaping holes, surrounding our exposed kneecaps with heavy, fringe-like dangling strings. Which brings up the question, “What is your favorite “garden-get-up?” The first five responders to send a photograph of themselves in full gardening regalia will receive a free “Toonmoose” garden” treat.
astride the walk, but only after the sun had dried the morning dew from the grass. A weighted string needed to be dropped from the sleeping porch to the ground for the morning glories to be trained upon. What seemed like another mile of the walk still needed to be edged, by hand-ripping out the overgrown grass. The rabbit-guard fencing needed to be opened, to give the judges access to the “potager.” Lastly, I had the recommended balloons to tie in front of the house, to identify the location for the judges, and a “Garden Open Today” sign to tack to the front gate.