After-Christmas Walk

Contrary to popular belief that gardening ends in the Fall, I have been "gardening" throughout December. I label any outdoor endeavor as gardening, perhaps that is my reasoning. It has taken me most of the month to tote away the debris from the three Nor'easters. My wildlife shelter/debris pile is immense, I do so hope there is a bunny within it. The fattest-possible gray and red squirrels preside over the bird feeders. The onslaught of 2015 seed catalogs has begun and I read the wildflower/pollinator seed mixes to see what already exists within my garden and might exist should Providence prevail. The rhododendrons seem well, their leaves variously droop and come back to life with each passing bout of cold weather. I have rebuilt the stone walls surrounding the shed door and filled those mini-beds with soil. I believe they are my weed-free, full sun locations for next season. The geese have produced soiled hay as is their job and I have moved that hay to the newest compost area. I loved the all-day rain on Christmas. Soak on, rot on. Walter the Dog and I had the spare time to meander through the back woods. There is a lot of work to be done there as well, to clear the paths for our fourteen year old dog friend Keene, who is quite blind and needs an air-lift over logs. We saw this stellar example of shelf fungi.

Actual Thanksgiving/Another Nor'easter

Happy Thanksgiving

I am thankful for this young solo heron that stood in my driveway and posed for me,  and I wish him well on his travels South. I am thankful for all the small trees and branches that came down in the early November storm. I used the branches to build a debris pile that I hope will shelter many a rabbit, vole and mouse through the winter. My geese love all the leftover scraps from the school's cafeteria and the flock of visiting Mallards love all the leftover scraps from the geese. The red squirrel who lives in the shed praises the grain and seed spilled each day as I feed the deer and the chickadees. I am thankful to whomever brought nine bags of leaves to the dump. I brought the bags home and used them to grow the pollinator garden ever larger for next summer's feast. And the leaves were chipped, how glorious and compostable is that? I am thankful to the woman in Blue Hill who places bags of horse manure and a Mason jar by her curbside. I am so happy to buy manure. All the brown-ness and bareness of November just seems like a rearranging of life to me. My Halloween pumpkin is happily rotting and destined to leave some seeds to sprout next May, a few winterberry branches are my bright red, next-holiday decorations on the deck - the cedar waxwings ate all the rest from the bushes. The bounty and the blessings are everywhere.

November News

Brown warblers, sparrows, chickadees, juncos and nuthatches are not pollinators now but my November garden is a-flurry with them and I am enchanted by their presence. All the brown stems, canes, and seed heads seem to be sprouting birds. If ever I had doubts about not furiously cleaning and tidying the "debris" of last season, those doubts are gone. Tidying can happen in April. It's easier to photograph the birds at the feeder than against a backdrop of brown, tan and yellow - so here's a view of just a few of my visitors. One feeder is slightly misshapen from nocturnal visits by raccoon and deer.

An early snowstorm walloped the Island last weekend and today was spent with the background noise of generators and chainsaws (we still do not have power). Spurred by the removal of broken branches and fallen trees, we were inspired to cut a path through trees and krummholz into a clearing. (One cannot do dishes or laundry when there is no electricity. The house is distressing. One must therefore remain outdoors in the sunshine.) Now there is a Secret Garden ready for suggestions. Acid soil, excellent drainage, partial sun, sort of south facing but surrounded by balsam and spruce. What do you think should grow there?

Compost Bonanza

I was ecstatic to find six huge bags of leaves at the burn pile at the dump, although I could only fit four of them into my Forrester (damn the need to buy groceries next). I had already placed a screen in front of my newest compost pile and begun the process of adding kitchen scraps and soiled hay to the existing layer of cardboard topped by grass clippings. Given the addition of a layer of seaweed and then the leaves, I have gone from "building a new compost area" to "waiting for Spring and the resulting fertile planting site" in a matter of two weeks. The location qualifies as partial shade as it is south-facing but also in the shade from the adjacent trees and the shed as the sunlight moves across the garden. Yes to well-drained, and let's not forget the need to be deer resistant. Spicebush? Serviceberry? Oregon grape holly? Rock cress aubrieta? Packera obovata? I love dreaming.

October Complacency

I was feeling quite proud of myself for planting absolutely nothing the last three weeks. Not only that, I have walked out of several nurseries empty handed, having visited for the sole purpose of buying a pumpkin or shopping in the associated Farmers Market. I worked on my Halloween display and I re-worked my stone wall. But no new plants for me, no-no-no. I toted water to the rhododendrons whenever there was a dry spell longer than six days. I pulled apart mature seed heads and distributed their contents. I envisioned cosmos and calendula and morning glory seeds in new places next season. I began a new compost pile and raked leaves from the roadside to aid to the soiled straw from the geese and soiled shavings from the rabbits. But I just said NO to the purchase of new plants. I cautioned myself that any week there will be hard frost, we are past a time for putting down new roots. I am past a time for daily check-ins to spot watering needs. I organized the shed, I brought in all the ceramic planters and birdbaths. My winter mode was switched on, the motor that plants from April onward was switched off. So I thought until I remembered alliums. I wanted to plant alliums this Fall. I wanted to see alliums sprout up giant and crazy and deer resistant next Spring. PayPal to the rescue, the bulbs are ordered, my trowel will not rest yet.

October Garden

I have been reading a lot of debate and ranting about the garden in Fall:  is it wondrous or is it barren of beauty? I'm not ready to exclaim that the October garden is as glorious as a May or July garden. But a garden is never without merit. The pollinators keep visiting, just varying their species in shifts. There is plenty of color and color contrast. Also, I side with the gardeners who do not tidy up and there is a bevy of small birds helping themselves to seed heads and no doubt other small creatures burrowing down through canes and fallen foliage in preparation for colder temperatures. Between the constant movement of the insects, birds and mammals and the daily changes of hue and texture, I believe my Fall garden is anything but dull.