Not Dead Yet!

In the wake of the snowstorm's destruction and the subsequent cleanup, it's been too depressing to spend much time either writing about or working in the garden.  So I've missed a post or two.  But this is the second consecutive weekend where we've had unusually warm weather and even though I know this is a tease, and another snowstorm is just around the corner, I've succumbed to the garden's siren song.  

I ventured out with pruning shears to do some winter prep and discovered that the garden has been more resilient than I of late.  The premature snow is gone, and in its place are signs that there is still life there.


The arugula we planted in the late summer has, in fact survived -- though spinach of the same vintage did not -- and looks as though we might be available for salads this weekend.

Arugula -- survivor of the big snowstorm!

The cold frame seems to have done its job in protecting the radicchio under its supervision.  It seems to be heading nicely and might soon join the arugula in the salad bowl... or perhaps sauteed with red onions to serve as a bed for seared scallops (if that sounds appealing, check out the delicious recipe here)! 

Radicchio heading nicely -- if slowly -- in the cold frame

I even found some hardy kale standing sentry alongside the cold frame.  It outlasted whatever cold-vulnerable insect was gnawing on it, and seems to  be thriving in this mini-warm spell.  A little garlic and olive oil, and this, too, will make a tasty side dish.

The kale outlasted bugs and snow

But even the plants that have not survived have their own austere beauty.  And once I stopped sulking about the fallen limbs and leaf debris everywhere even I -- grouchy though I was -- was able to appreciate some of these starker pre-winter tableaux.

Lacy hydrangea panicles still look regal when petrified!

The last bloom on a rose bush shutting down for the winter

And then there's the compost pile we started in a cage at the top of the hill last year around this time.  We began it with leaf clippings and fed it all year long with kitchen scraps and garden detritus.  Mr. Mulch built a second cage into which we he shoveled the first turning.  Then last weekend he built a third to hold the ready to use compost from the second cage.  And as he shoveled #2 into #3, there was the final discovery: in yet another of nature's miracles, all that garbage had decomposed into thick, dark nutrient-rich compost ready to feed next year's garden. 

Mr. Mulch shoveling from bin #2 to bin #3

Fully composted -- black gold!

And so, even though the garden has come full circle and is almost as barren as it was at the beginning of this blog last March, in that moist pile of disintegrated debris lies the hope for the next successful growing season.  

The hill has come full circle, plants done, hunkering down for the winter

And for that, on this holiday weekend, we are inded very, very thankful.

Not With a Whimper, but a Bang

So last weekend we, like everyone else in the Northeast, were laid low by the freak October snowstorm that ate the last of the gardening season.  No gentle fading into late fall this year.  No, Mother Nature brought the season to an abrupt and violent conclusion.  Smothered it in fact, in a thick blanket of heavy cement-like snow, weighing down the still-leafy trees until their trunks snapped, reverberating like shotgun blasts throughout the afternoon. 

The storm rolled in earlier than expected and stayed longer and behaved much worse than our usual meteorological visitors. Even our earliest snowstorms in the past have had the good manners to wait til the leaves fall from the trees, but not this time. And our poor Kousa dogwoods paid the price.  

Here's the dogwood I see from our kitchen window.  It's about noon last Saturday, October 29th.  The storm has just started arrived.  If you enlarge this photo, you can see how heavily the snow is falling.  At this point, the Kousa and it's neighboring rhododendron and hydrangea are still proudly upright.

Noon -- the storm starts to get serious

By about 1:30 PM, there are a couple of inches on the ground -- still not too much -- but it's clear that this snow is sticking like velcro.  Very. Heavy. Velcro.  The Kousa is already bowed, as are it's friends.

1:30 -- this is not going to be pretty

It's at this point that we feel compelled to venture out to shake some snow off the branches before they give way entirely.  But it takes only 10-15 minutes before we're totally spooked by the sounds of cracking tree branches and the unmistakable slow motion crashes of enormous trees keeling over so we retreat through the garage into our mudroom to shed our way-too-soon winter garb and head upstairs.  We pause on the landing to look out at the driveway and hear an awfully close gunshot and the swish, crash bang of a huge falling limb which makes us both duck reflexively even though we're inside.  We look out at the place on the driveway where we usually park the cars we'd moved just two hours earlier and see this:

 ... which used to be attached to this:

... which is a good 60 feet up in the air.  Which means that a) had we come in 5 minutes later, we would have been flattened, and b) it was a really, really good idea to move the cars!  We also were extremely lucky because the limbs missed both the generator and the propane tank that powers it, straddling both without doing any damage.  As if to punctuate our good fortune, it was right about then that the power went out.  For 5 days.  But the generator worked, and we were able to keep the house warm and flush toilets, so we were in relatively good shape.  As I write this, there are areas in my own and neighboring towns that still don't have power, so believe me, I'm not complaining.


Meanwhile, back on the other side of the house, the Kousa went completely prostrate.  Or perhaps, given what had just happened down below, maybe it was just ducking for cover.

Kousa flattened, along with its neighbors

By Sunday morning things had calmed down enough to take stock of the damage. It was impressive.  We'll start with a full foot (maybe a bit more) of soggy snow.  Too heavy to shovel; too wet to plow, so it's going to be with us for quite a while.  Behind what used to be our seating area, you can see a standard Rose of Sharon bent all the way to the ground, festooned with sticky flakes.

Poor Rose of Sharon in the background; it's supposed to stand straight up!

No hope for fall crops.  Somewhere under the blanket below is spinach, arugula, and lettuce.  Poor defenseless sprouts!

No arugula today!

Then there's the hydrangea -- the proud subject of a post just a week before, now also bowed down to the ground.

Snowbound Hydrangea

A week later I can report that, happily, the Hydrangea, Kousa, and Rose of Sharon have bounced back in testament to the resilience of growing plants.  Sadly though, we did lose a weeping cherry tree in the front yard, and plenty of big branches from those oaks that stand sentinel all around our hill.

Oak limbs down on the hill

Cleanup has taken quite some time -- and an awful lot of chainsawing.  That's Mr. Mulch's job.  It's my job to stack the wood, and we both haul away branches and leaves.  Lots and lots of branches and leaves.  It's a real mess.  After three full days of sawing and stacking, here's what used to be the half an oak tree that shaded our driveway until it decided to become one with it...

A full cord of wood

There is a positive side to all of this:  at least we won't need any firewood for about five years!