Osiris Rising

Winter began at the end of January. The low temperature, early Wednesday morning, January 30, bottomed at -34℉ with a high temperture of -16℉. In February, temperatures did not get very much above 10℉, and were often below zero.

My wife described these low temperatures in this way -one feels surrounded. Imagine you stepped outside of your plane on a flight across country...

When it's minus thirty you can play around with making clouds with boiling water.

I retreated to Cedar Creek Ecosystem Science Reserve one last time to work on some writing. The moon rose, and later that night, the second of several significant snowfalls began.

The snow piles higher; sliding off roofs, snow blown, and accumulation.

The icicles grow longest on the upper floors -some over six feet long.

Ice dams form where house heat melts roof snow, where the weight of snow compresses it at the edges of a roof.

By February 20th we had the snowiest February on record -with still more snow to come. By the same date, however, one begins to think of what else may come -warmth! With it comes melting, wet snows, even rain. The weight on the roof is probably okay under the cold regime, but snow is like a sponge -lighter when dry and heavier when wet. Ordinarily welcome, the warmth could become a problem.

It is easy to imagine the return of glacial lake Agassiz, forming as rainfall accumulates between a snow pack of thirty inches, four foot snow mounds, and the frozen ground. I begin to clear areas previously left untouched -in front of the greenhouse, the sidewalk between the house and front yard and six feet beyond the walkway between the house and the backyard.

I even cleared a path to the compost pile -you can almost make it out on the far right, above. This was to keep us from trudging knee deep to dump the bucket, but also to give the melt water a place to travel down slope, away from the house.

Then it was time for the inevitable: clearing the roof. Wind helped keep some edges below sixteen inches, but other spots were above eighteen inches. This view is akin to a core sample -each storm depositing more snow, compressing under the weight of the next. The upper portion is the thickest and lightest, the bottom crispy and snow-cone like.

One of my better purchases: insulated rubber boots: good to -20℉.

When climbing out a window into a thirty inch snow drift, mind the space above your head. This icicle was disturbed by my head, broke, and dropped on my noggin -not a good way to start shoveling snow off of the roof.

On March 10 we woke up to another six or seven inches of snow. This time the temperature was in the mid to high twenties and the snow sticky: aka wet snow -a sign of things to come.

A six foot tall azalea has little positive things to say about six inches of wet snow. We have noticed that between -30℉ and 30℉, the azalea leaves change form. Warmer temperatures show leaves that are open wide and flat. At colder temperatures, the leaves are tightly rolled.

By Tuesday, March 12, the air was a warm and dewy 37℉. That's when the rain started to fall. By Wednesday, we had a morning fog with near white out conditions. It continued to rain through Thursday -leading to flood reports across several Midwestern States. 

There is little moderation in the Midwestern climate -at times, we can span 70 degrees in a couple of days. On the coasts, even within a three week period, to experience below zero temperatures at the beginning and sixty degrees Fahrenheit at its end, is unheard of. With over thirty inches of snow on still frozen ground across the entire state, days of rain, and the increasing temperature to near 60℉ by Saturday, we will see large scale flooding.

Like Osiris rising from the dead, so too is spring. The geese were heard flying over just a few days ago. The birds, winter friendly, are spring noisy. The popping of basswood, Tilia americana, trunks were heard echoing among the woods on a sunny afternoon of twenty-five degrees -calling us out to tap sugar maples for sap.

From winter weather to spring in bird song.

The Month Spring

The Weather

 

The last spring snow melted in the gardener's lot the night of May 10th. It will now be in the nineties.

The Farm(s)

On the ninth, I had a moment to look on the garlic, strike the weeds with a hoe. Never before have I seen the garlic so small so late.

The effervescence of lambsquarter and thistle is contained with mats of semi-wet straw remaining from last fall.

The Greenhouse

Three rows by five of ear leaved brome, Bromus latiglumis, out front of 4 rows of bottle brush grass, Elymus hystrix, and three rows of silky wild rye, Elymus villosus. An ability or want to grow in the shade is a commonality among these monocotyledonous Poaceae. These will likely be established on the culvert embankment, partially collapsed last fall, once restored.

It takes an especially observant person, and some years of experience, to decipher one seedling's visual cues from another. Identification -what is that? Dicotyledonous plants, with pubescent stems and leaf edges, slightly wavy heart-spade shaped leaves, pale green, growing thickly (indicating small seeds to the planter of seeds). This blindness to leaves and stems, the miniature, and impatience allows many undesirable plants to survive the hoe.  Refining possibility by my seed order leaves only Campanula americana, or Tall Bellflower. When I return from Cedar Creek, the tag will tell how experienced I am.

Blue lobelia, Lobelia siphilitica, whose seeds are only a fraction of a millimeter, have a stellar germination rate. Competition must be the thinning mechanism.  These seedlings are for the northern edge of the great swamp, that two acre depression of drowned trees, duckweed, and fluctuating water levels toward the back of our woods. On that partly shady slope -weedy garlic mustard, thistle, canary reed grass and me. I've got black plastic on part of the water's edge covering canary reed grass, and been hoeing then planting Iris versicolor, spotted joe pye weed, blue vervain, big blue stem grass, and others. The seed bank of garlic mustard and root network of thistle is deep, while canary reed grass forms dense, fibrous mats that are bears to pull, but there is also a surprising amount of diversity in this highly disturbed site at the edge of a former commercial gravel pit.

Ephemerals

Hepatica, Anemone americana, trailside, Cedar Bog Lake trail, May seventh Cedar Creek Ecosystem Science Reserve.

Large flowered bellwort, Uvularia grandiflora, like many ephemerals growing in our woods, had a prolific season. Is this is due to winter weather resembling winters these plants have evolved by? Last year, after yet another overly warm winter, I stumbled upon one, maybe two bellwort. This spring there are possibly dozens of clumps scattered in previously barren understory sites. Our only known patch of trillium, nibbled by the hungry deer this spring, now has peers. A display of randomness that throws off any rational sense of seed distribution and opens us to the potential of seeds storing in ground until conditions are right, to a migration of seeds via ants and mice, and, as is the case with trillium, to the slow process from fruit to flowering plant. A warming climate, should it create a warming winter here, won't be hospitable to these spring ephemerals, more likely favoring the weedy plants that take advantage of disruption and do not have such particular requirements for germination.

Nodding trillium, Trillium cernuum.

 

Three Day April Blizzards Bring May...

What can I say about the three day blizzard that has been occupying our senses for 36 hours now? Not much, other than it is April 14th today. The robins have arrived twice, sandhill cranes arriving for weeks, other birds looking for nesting sites, squirrels stripping the buds off treetops, silver maples have flowered weeks ago. Up at Cedar Creek, I even heard a few chirps of the spring frogs four days ago, despite the snow that still resides there.

My garlic, always up by now, here or in New York, is buried under frozen -really, solidly frozen soil. This was Friday morning, just before the coming snow.

The Home Depot has littered the store with racks of perennials and annuals in every aisle.

As of 2pm, the blizzard rages on.

As of 4pm, the blizzard rages on.

As of 6pm, on and on.

 At six thirty, the greenhouse, should have thousands of native sedges and forbs seeded in trays.

Six thirty, the backyard and studio. There's is a lot of blowing snow, but we've hit about 10 inches with 18 more hours to go. The temperature hasn't made it over 25° F today, and is descending to about 18° F by Monday morning. People might say, hey -its Minnesota, but this is unusual, even for here.

Post Post

Is this now a post post journal in accord with our new post truth environment? I admit to being busy with so many different projects that the will to post has been minimal or rather, non-existent. To blog one has to make time or have time, an idea to flesh and flush out, images to give sight to sore eyes, and an editor -always have an editor. Is it that there is nothing new to report? Hardly -there are too many things to report.

The garlic is in last season's potato bed and even more at the neighbor's sheep farm. We may see Hudson Clove return to small sales next year. The bed of herbs is taking in the glories of climate changes that helped create the longest growing season in our region's written history. Depending on one's micro-climate it was possible to grow throughout November. I believe November 19 or so was the first time it froze long enough to do in the cold-sensitive plants and the brassicas lasted into December.

Our lawn has turned completely from grass to creeping charlie. I may use the language of the walking dead to describe it from now on: another area has turned. I could go into a description of creeping charlie, but a visit to Wikipedia should do. Creeping charlie was likely brought to our place, intentionally or otherwise, by my father in law. Our vegetable gardening created bare patches that allowed it to get stronger. The lawnmower chopped it into little bits; each sprouting into a new plant as the weather permits. Last summer and this summer the weather was all too permissive. It spread far and wide and quite literally there is now no more grass. It's also invading the perennial garden and after we had the dumpster removed from the drive, I discovered it growing underneath. Raking leaves is out of the question, unless you want it to spread wherever you move those leaves. My father in law raked and hauled leaves into the woods, over the slope -a good practice, generally. At slope bottom, however, there is now a large colony of charlie that I have low initiative to deal with. I've seen it in the middle slough, too and then again sliding down the slope into the back slough.

While everyone was lining up to buy things on black Friday, I lined up herbs and flowers to prep for a winter indoors. The rosemary was over-wintered in its pot last year and hung in there, but took until mid summer outside to really take off. Much larger and greener than last year, and not so delicately ripped from its summer bed, I hope it will survive once again. Along with lantana, it will be spending the winter in warm, dry, sunny bedroom window.

The pineapple sage wouldn't have made it to bloom if the season hadn't been so extended (although it may have in the greenhouse). There is nothing this red in November around here, poinsettia excluded (we overwintered and oversummered one from last Christmas). I've cut a few branches for rooting and even brought the whole plant in. I will cut it back hard after flowering is complete and see how it does.

Some Siberian cold (often the coldest place on earth) has been dislodged and is making itself felt now. The Army Corp wisely held up the DAPL so at least some of those protesting the pipeline would be inclined to head indoors. The ridiculously warm temperatures gave those not familiar with the Dakotas a false sense of our climate and would have been hit hard by the forty mile an hour winds and zero degree temperatures of the last few days. The cold and wind forced me to bring our agave and opuntia cacti in from the greenhouse. My educated guess is that these can survive zero degree F temperatures as long as they stay dry, but I decided not to chance it. They will also spend the winter in warm, sunny bedroom window.

I, however, will spend the sunny part of days out and semi-out of doors. You'd be surprised how easy it is to get used to 15 degrees F. I just spent 20 minutes outside this morning, sans jacket, to take some photos. It's the fingers one needs to worry about, especially where there's wind. 

Above is the south side of the studio building we've been working on for the last year. I think the temperature inside has stabilized at 34 degrees F despite the 17 degrees F outside and is warm enough to do some interior framing and insulating (where I'll be after this). With the luck of the longest growing season, the grass seed I planted here in early October not only sprouted, but grew in somewhat. Then, in one of the many furious acts born out of every last day above freezing, I tilled it all but a two foot wide grass strip in order to winter plant a native savanna garden from seed mixes I purchased from Prairie Moon.

I also tilled behind the building, on the west side, where I will broadcast a woodland mix of forbs and sedges. I do not expect this to be as easy as my milkweed experiment turned out to be. Disturbed areas like this are perfect for invasive plants (like garlic mustard) to take over, so I have to act immediately. In the greenhouse, towards late winter, I will also seed five inch deep cell trays with many of the grasses and some forbs. These will be planted directly around the building and elsewhere on the land where large oaks have fallen to create sunny openings.

As I look out the window, I see that it is flurrying again. Till next time.

Garden Architecture

After 15 years, this greenhouse of redwood and polycarbonate, has finally come out from under tarp and mouse droppings. It was purchased for my project at Socrates Sculpture Park in Long Island City, Queens, in 2001, assembled amidst the acrid haze of September 11, and the structure became a refuge during a very dark time. The company, Gardenhouse, generously donated their profit by giving the structure to my project at their cost.

Our site, formerly Rex's dog pen, was excavated last fall and filled with Class 5 gravel (a mixture of 1 inch or less rock, sand and some clay), hand compacted by me this spring, and laid with the cheapest concrete pavers from a preferred regional box store. Redwood is great for this kind of structure because it really doesn't warp and is one of the best rot-resistant woods. The polycarbonate held up well, but I hosed down the panels last fall and the hard water left spots inside the double walls. Oh well, still have a greenhouse! 

Because thunderstorm winds are a concern, Betsy made L-shaped pins from two-foot long, 1/2 inch rebar which holds down anchoring straps at seven points along the perimeter. As they rust, the pins will bind to the soil which provides extra grip. Also around the perimeter, I laid landscape fabric and 2 inch granite gravel dug from nearby "landscaping" in anticipation of high speed rain runoff from the 45-degree pitched roof, weeds, and the little boost of rock's heat retention. The brick edging is an unfortunate compromise.

I am renovating a portion of our front porch deck so that I could use the old, long cedar planks as framing for our raised herb bed. After ensuring the rusty screws and nails were out, I ripped the boards on the table saw to cut out the rotted sides. The heart of these boards are perfect, so if you are looking for free raised bed material I would look for a deck carpenter in your area. Our boards haven't been treated in at least sixteen years, if ever, and each had a nice coating of algae and lichen. Still, I placed the up-side out and the underside toward the planting. You could do the same if you are concerned or unsure about the treated nature of free, old deck boards.

After building the first raised bed I rather liked the structure over the hastily made front yard vegetable beds of last year. I had potatoes to plant and thought a raised bed would be easiest for "soiling up" mid season. I tilled, built the two side walls out of 14 foot old cedar deck boards, added humus from the base of a giant old oak tree that spits out a fine, peaty substance from a portal 5 feet up its trunk, then added the rotting straw that covered the garlic beds, and finally several cubic feet of compost. I left the 40-inch end boards off so I could run the tiller through to mix these ingredients in. 

I dug a trench and planted the potatoes at about 12 inch spacing, covered the potatoes, then dug the center trench and so on. In a raised bed with rich soil I am anticipating that I can tighten my spacing. Don't take my word for it, however, see Rodale's 7 Ways to Grow Potatoes.

The greenhouse, nearly completed (still rocks for the back and side, one vent operator to install and some window cleaning). We moved our New Mexican Opuntia and Agave inside the greenhouse, mostly to avoid the cold rains, but also to get them more sun than the house could provide. The front of the greenhouse will be tilled and seeded for grass, then stepping stones or maybe brick walkway from the garage pad to the door. 

Inside the greenhouse, on a quick-built table made of cedar taken off the house last fall, are starter trays and cold-stratified milkweed seeds of seven varieties. I am generally two weeks behind on most projects, so these got started a little late, but milkweed enjoys warm soil sprouting (you'll notice even well-established plants are some of the latest to come up). The milkweed seedlings are sprouting and now share the table with summer vegetable seedlings and strong-looking starts purchased last week at one of our area's better unique and heirloom variety vegetable nurseries -Shady Acres.

If you are thinking of a free-standing greenhouse like this, I'd like to offer some considerations. Make sure you have a solid base to build on that is level as these greenhouses won't piece together well if they are bent out of form by off-level pads. Make sure you place it in a sunny location! Don't laugh, if you build in fall or early spring it could be quite sunny, but not from May through October. Do consider wind and overhanging branches. Gardenhouse says it can withstand a wind load of 85 mph. Why chance it? Make sure to anchor it in some fashion, put it in an area that provides a windbreak yet doesn't allow a large limb to come down on it (note that home insurance usually doesn't cover structures like these). Finally, if you have lots of paper wasps, they will love to explore your new greenhouse as a fine place for their nests of stinging motherf$#ers. I was stung four times last year, mostly because I put my hands near a nest I could not see. Paper wasps are very observant and will watch you as you get close. They will leave you be if you do not get too close, but if you do, in a flash one or more will drop on you and leave its painful stinger. In short, you may have to spray a long term pesticide on the rafters, as difficult as that decision is. Wear a mask, cover your skin and eyes, because it's hard to avoid getting doused when spraying up into a pitched roof. Don't forget places like under a table. The long term stuff should last all season, meanwhile you can use clear sealant to close up gaps that allow creatures in, and with some luck, the next year you will not have to spray.

Stratify This

This winter I've proposed a landscape project for Franconia Sculpture Park's program. Materially, the artwork will be made of milkweed, Asclepias species, sourced from the northern tier. I don't want to say too much more about the form this planting will take as the jury is still out. I do, however want to share with you the process for stratifying milkweed seeds. It's an easy and fun thing to do should you want to get a jump on milkweed for your yard. You may, of course, plant seeds in fall and the damp, cold climate will do all the work for you, but what fun is that?

It's important to source your milkweed seeds regionally because they will be best adapted to your climate extremes. My project's seeds were purchased from Prairie Moon Nursery, a Minnesota based native seed company. Like many perennials (plants that come back each year), Milkweed requires a period of cold and damp to break dormancy of its seed. This process is known as stratification. 

First you will need sand. It's possible that any sand will do, but I bought this very fine, washed sand at the big box. The fifty pound paper sack (which leaks all over, keep it outside) was under five dollars and I used only a fraction of it.

You must dampen the sand and the first thing you will notice is how the water percolates through it just as it does at the beach. If you'd rather go to the beach than the box store, I recommend bringing a coffee can with you for your seed stratification needs. 

You'll also need some kind of sealable bag, ziplock type or even a baggie. There shouldn't be any free water in the bag after dropping in the sand. Add the seeds and label. I wrote the start date, how long they should be stratified, and the quantity of seeds. And since it is easy to forget about them, I put an alert on my phone to remind me to check in 28 and 30 days.

Here they are -seven varieties of milkweed ready for the refrigerator. If all goes according to plan, I will be potting these seeds in deep cell trays come late March. Afterward, the trays will go into the greenhouse, ahem, the as yet unbuilt greenhouse leaning against an oak tree in the back yard. All in good time. By May they should be ready to plant in our Monarch Park over the drain field and quite possibly at the sculpture park forty five minutes to our north and east.

Our Bubble

It's cold, people been saying it, making hay about it, FB feeds are full of it, especially the city New Yorkers. The native Minnesotan doesn't make too much of the cold, but I'm willing to point out that, here, it's cold all the time, so much so that when it is over 15 degrees F, we say it's warming. A few days ago, at a restaurant, the server said it was freezing out, and I laughed because, you know, it was 33 degrees below  freezing. Freezing (32 degrees F) is warm, here. To put our coldness problem another way (cue the northern gardener eye roll), the frost free date is solidly mid-late May. That's right, May 15 or 22.  

So how wonderful that I should discover a conservatory in our neighboring city, St. Paul, open to all citizens for free, or donation. It is not grand by world-class glasshouse standards, nor festooned with cutting edge design, but it is warm and humid. Wow. Such a simple pleasure. The indulgence was smile inducing. 

A stream with moss-covered stone and fern.

And palms.

Some tropical flowers.

Then, an extremely formal garden wing with standard forced bulbs and yet, amazing. 

The light, the humidity, the warmth just what we need.

It reminds us that spring, too, happens here by conjuring its sensation.

That artifice is in our nature.

And it thrills us.

At a cost.

But do not dwell on that.

Enjoy the glass bubble.

The fish tank.

And the overpopulating Koi.

Brightly colored birds.

And Orchids.

And be out the door by four.