battle weary

 Despite my best efforts, the aphids and white flies are winning.  Into the woods I have tossed six pepper plants and about two dozen zinnia seedlings.  The aphids moved on to my globe artichoke and whorled milkweed seedlings, but I'm not giving up on those quite yet.

In happier news, I've kind of, sort of potted up my dahlia tubers.  I've given them no heat mats or grow lights, just the indirect light coming from a window that faces east.  

                           

In our zone, dahlias take forever to develop and flower if you wait until the danger of frost is gone.  I have a terrible habit of not remembering I've overwintered the tubers in a box somewhere, so by the time I get them out and get them in dirt, they're months behind.  For the last three years I've managed about two or three flowers between about a dozen or more tubers.  For those who are unfamiliar with the plant, if you live in a zone that gets killing frosts, snow, and temperatures that go below 40* for months at a time, you need to dig up the tubers and store them somewhere dark and frost-free.  They're a delicate plant, and when leafed out and blooming, the slightest touch of frost will cause them to blacken and begin dying.  Being that fussy of a plant usually means I avoid them, but I also love the amazing colors and never ending varieties of dahlias.  I'm hoping this head start means these plants will bloom toward the middle of summer rather than early autumn, but I can't be sure I've timed it right.  I do know that in twelve days of minimal care, they're already pushing through the soil.

 

I have to turn them every other day so they don't lean so much, but I'm really excited to see if they do bloom this year.  Some of them have, and I've noted the colors (red, pink, salmon, and orange), but some of them I've had for years and have no idea what colors they are.  Once it's warmer and they can go out, I'll transplant them into proper containers.

Speaking of outside, I may have jumped the gun a bit by putting out the cheap cloche over the big planter.

OF COURSE.  OF COURSE IT'S SNOWING...AGAIN.  Ugh, three to five inches expected.  I had hoped to start hardening off the leeks but I need it to be just a little warmer, even with the cloche.

Before it snowed again, I did clip some broken branches off one of the Midwinter Fire dogwood bushes.  Supposedly they're like willow clippings, in that you can just shove them in the ground and they'll take root.  I cut the base on an angle and cut most of the lower branches, then pushed them into the ground.  I think I was supposed to cut all of the little branches off, but we'll see what happens.

 But for this weekend, no poly tunnel covering, no hauling the tractor out to move manure piles, no removing the two downed trees on the track fence (finally found some guys to do that!), no working on the dead hedge.  I'm just a girl, stuck inside a house, asking for spring to come.  

 

 

blackbirds singing a song to lure spring back

New Year, Old Me

 I haven't made any New Year resolutions; I never seem to stick to them.  This autumn I was put on blood pressure medication which made me feel like an utter failure.  I am terrible at weight loss (food is my kryptonite), so instead of vowing to diet, I decided I'm going to move more.  I'm using an old Fitbit tracker and making sure I'm at least getting the requisite 10,000 steps in, but I try to aim higher.  My average since August is 11,000+ steps per day.  I despise regimented exercise, so walking, gardening, and yard work are my motivating tools.  I was a little worried I would fall behind during winter, but so far we haven't really had a winter.

What little snow we did get in December was washed away in oddly warm temperatures with rain.  As soon as we flipped the calendar, we flipped the temperatures.  We're going to see pretty much a consistent daily pattern of mid 20sF during the day, with teens to single digits overnight for most of the month.  I'm a little more than worried about losing some of the late planted perennials if their root systems weren't well established, but we'll see how it goes.  I'm actually surprised by how much green can be found in the hillside garden and cottage beds right now.  I tried to mulch as much as I could, but I was really banking on a deep snow pack to insulate most of my beds. 

The lack of snow has given me the impetus to finally start cutting back the brush and invasive plants where my forest garden will be.  My wheeled weed wacker is currently being repaired, so I'm using loppers to work my way through the tangle of bittersweet, briars, and Autumn Olive saplings.  

So far I've managed to cut back the small area in front of the wheel barrow.  It's not as easy as you'd think, not with the ground frozen completely solid and much of the debris stuck fast to the dirt.

It's not something I'll get done in a day, but I think by plugging away at it at least a half hour each day, I should get most of it cleared in a short time.  And it gets me moving, which is my bigger goal.  

I had also started cutting back the sumac whips behind the dogwood garden in the front.  My main reason was because I absolutely love seeing the sun set the Midwinter Fire bark aglow, and the sumac behind it was a distraction.

 Although, the sun behind the fuzzy sumac whips is beautiful in its own way.

Behind the house, it's been cold enough to freeze my little water feature solid.  I never did get around to putting a flagstone path between it and the fire pit area.

Speaking of the fire pit area, I'm rethinking the wall of asters I planted along the edge.  I think I may move them elsewhere, and plant something smaller along that edge, or leave it so the granite edging can be admired.  The asters also detract from the Yellow Twig Dogwood, which needs a serious pruning and maybe a new location.  

I don't cut back the asters because I've noticed the smaller birds going for the seed heads at times, and I like to encourage foraging.  Unfortunately I forget to pinch them back and they get leggy, which means they flop when the snow comes.  Unsightly!  

One last movement inducing task this winter will be hauling my daily mule manure to the wildflower mound.  This was something I've been wanting to do for two years now, but never got around to cutting back all the weeds and grass first. Unfortunately, Reputa suffered a broken throttle cable and a failed tube in one of her tires, so she is down for the count right now.  Pushing a wheelbarrow full of fresh poo across the farm twice daily in the pitch dark will be a good way to keep the step count up. Right?  I mean...right?  *cries softly*

 

 At this point, it's pretty well beat down and I can see what I'm doing.  The goal is to cover the slope with manure, then mulch heavily, and use this area to grow either corn or squash...or both.  Add in some pole beans, and I'll have a three sisters garden.  Not a bad idea!  Now, let's see if I can actually accomplish these tasks.  Full disclosure - no breaths will be held in the coming months.

Safety first!

 We just had a storm much like the one of December 26th, 2022.  We had some decent snowpack started, then in came absurdly warm temperatures and rain, followed by a deep freeze.  It was a good time to observe how well the snow guards I recently had installed on the mule barn roof worked.  After all, I didn't want a repeat of the April snowstorm near-death experience.

I opted for clear polycarbonate snow guards  and was happy with how unobtrusive they looked after installation.  We had a few small storms with three inches of snow or so, and above where they were installed, the snow pretty much stayed put.  The foot or so between the bottom row and the roof edge would just slide off, but that wasn't enough snow to cause injury to the mules, who for some reason insist on backing up to the eave side wall on the outside of the barn during bad weather.  Maybe the rain or snow coming off the roof feels like a massage, who knows?  But given this predilection I've always worried that they would get hurt at some point if a large amount of snow gave way; experience is the mother of caution, or something like that.

After the first couple storms we had another small one that left about four inches of new snow, but reports were calling for an unusual increase in temperatures and some torrential rain, along with whipping winds.  I was curious to see if the rain would have any effect on the snow still piled on the roof, held back by the snow guards.  Would it remain there, would it slide off in one go, would it peel off in sections?  

December 11th, 8:30 am: The snow is covering the entire roof.

December 11th, 2:30 pm: It's been drizzling rain but temperatures remain in the 30sF, only the edge has been exposed.

December 11th, 5:30 pm: It's beginning to rain in earnest, and despite melting or compacting a bit, the snow hasn't gone anywhere.

December 13th, 8:00 am: Despite temperatures into the 50sF and torrential downpours on the 11th, there's still snow on the roof.  This was pretty much what it looked like the morning of the 12th but I forgot to take a photo.  Temperatures plummeted back into the 20sF during the day.

It's now the 15th and it looks pretty much the same.  So, despite melting and rain, it didn't come off in one giant sheet.  The amount that slides off the roof isn't enough to hurt the mules (or their person).  And the biggest surprise to me is the lack of the massive frozen bank under the eaves, the one that sometimes looks like this:

So suffice to say, I'm pretty darned happy with these little snow guards.  I was nervous picking manure under the eaves at first (hello, PTSD) but I know now that I have nothing to worry about, I'm perfectly safe from sudden avalanches.  And it helps that I purchased enough to also have some installed over the hay room doors on the other side of the barn, where I'd been buried this past spring.  Safety first!

April Snowstorm Blues

 We survived the nor'easter of '24.

Snowfall reports vary, but my snow stake showed 19" of heavy, wet snow at the end of the storm.  Winds from 30-40 and sometimes 50 mph wreaked havoc on snow laden limbs and weaker trees, bringing down so many that at one point the citizens without power numbered over one hundred thousand in New Hampshire alone.  At one point the road closures due to trees and wires down exceeded 200.  Thanks to hundreds of tree service companies and utility workers from New Hampshire, as well as crews from neighboring states that flooded the area in the aftermath, we were only without power for 3 days.  

The storm started for me on Thursday morning; I woke up at 3:00 am and was too keyed up to get back to sleep.  I got up, checked the snowfall, made my coffee, and sat down to do some internet surfing.  At 3:53 am there was a huge flash of lightning followed by two thunderclaps that were so intense, they shook the house.  Thundersnow!  Jim Cantore, eat your heart out.  

Five minutes later we lost power.

Through the first part of the storm, snowblowing was fairly easygoing.  After feeding the mules I cleaned up in front of the garage, did my path to the barn, and cleared at mom's house.  I managed to get my generator started and was very pleased with how well it did over the three day period.  Running my mini split heating unit, the water pump, my refrigerator, and a few outlets between my kitchen and the connecting porch I was able to get eight hours of running time for every 5 gallons of gas.  

The most significant thing that happened to me specifically is a cautionary tale to anyone who has become far too comfortable with winter cleanup.  As the storm was winding down I decided to do some preemptive cleanup around the mule barn.  There was about 16-18" of snow built up on the roof, and it's metal, so I knew it would come flying off at some point.  It generally will come down in a sheet, and it slams to the ground forming a cement-like berm of snow in front of the hay room doors.  My plow guy had punched open the main part of the driveway, but hadn't plowed along the barn side, and I like to keep the hay room doors accessible for unloading shavings, hay, or moving carts of manure out of the barn.  And I wanted to dump some manure that morning.  I also knew if I could get the current snow cleaned up, that would be all the less I'd need to deal with once the snow came off the roof.

So it was that I began a slow trudge along the barn, through snow over my knees, trying to clear a path with my trusty snowblower.  I managed to break open one path almost to the doors, when in a flash there was a complete whiteout, and a second later I was standing - quite shocked - looking at my snowblower buried under a pile of snow.  Part of the snow load from the roof had let go.

I began frantically trying to dig out the machine with my hands, which was still running, and attempted to rock it out of its position, to no avail.  I went into the barn and grabbed a shovel, and began digging it out with that.  And that's when it all went to hell in a hand basket.  

 The next thing I knew, the other half of the snow load let go and I saw it hit the machine, realized what was happening, and a split second later was thrown sideways into the snow and completely buried.  My panicked brain's first thought was "AIR!", and I began trying to claw the snow away from my head.  I was pinned under about two feet or more of heavy, wet snow, lying sideways on my right side.  My right arm was pinned underneath me, bent so my hand was near my head.  My legs were buried the worst, and I couldn't move them at all.  I was able to free my left arm and began digging and pushing the snow away from my head and torso as best I could.  I was keenly aware that there could be more snow on the roof ready to come barrelling down on me at any second, so of course I began to panic.  I started thrashing my torso around, trying to free my right arm enough to bend it behind me to my right back pants pocket, where my phone was.  (Note to self - keep the phone in a front jacket pocket from now on!)  When I realized I was not going to be able to reach my phone, absolute panic set in.  I began screaming at the top of my lungs for help, because my mother had been snowblowing up near her barn when this happened.  Unfortunately, she couldn't see me, and couldn't hear me over the noise of her own snowblower, and my snowblower was still running right beside me.  I was fairly certain I was going to die in that snow coffin, and wouldn't be missed or found until my plow guy pushed my frozen corpse up the following day.  After about fifteen minutes of thrashing, clawing, and screaming I was able to get my right arm freed, then twisted myself up on my hands and knees.  I called my mother on my cell phone, crying hysterically.  By the time she made it down to the barn, I had managed to pull a foot out of my boot and get myself kicked free, and was standing upright. So I didn't die.  Obviously.

I managed to get the machine shut down and my mother took a picture of the snowblower, buried.

Later that night, after I'd stewed on my idiocy for some time, I decided to rescue the machine.  I forced the hay room doors open and dug a path to the snowblower, and managed to rock it out of the snow and pull it into the barn.  Once in, I was able to wheel it down the alley and out the front door.  My back was decidedly not happy.

My would-be snow coffin.

Chalk that up to a hard lesson learned.

Other casualties were part of my newly started mule track; I may be able to salvage the no-climb horse fence, but I'll need to replace some pressure treated posts, and it looks like I may have lost three or four corral panels and a gate or two.  I had leaned extra sections against the started fence to use later...wouldn't you know that's where the tree would fall?  This was a tall pine that came up by the roots.

Other random shots of destruction around the area, mostly after the dangerous stuff was cleaned up:

Our town road agent, hard at work cleaning up the roadsides.

But it was beautiful, too.

Gotta love a New England spring.

Grow my pretties, grow!

 The yarrow seedlings have graduated to plants; they're looking quite adult at this point.

The Blue Fescue grass is amazing...even my mother is drawn to it, just to brush it lightly with her hand.  I don't know that it would be so alluring at ground level, but at eye level it just begs to be admired and touched.

The Baptisia are still going strong.

The petunias, impatiens, and pansies I started a month ago now are doing well enough.  I've only lost one petunia and one of the impatiens.  

There wasn't even a whisper of snow left on my side of the property at the beginning of the week, and only a small mound on Mom's side, where the plow pushed it up into a huge snow bank.  Although the end of February and beginning of March were blissfully mild, this week has dropped back to average temperatures, near or below 32F.  Winds have been kicking up, making it feel even colder.  Yesterday was the first day of spring, but it feels like winter is lingering.  We're expecting a storm this weekend with snow, sleet, and rain, which isn't unusual for March.  Heck, that's not unusual for April around here.

I'm beginning to toy with ideas for the sloped area off the leach field.  Last year I had hoped to get it cleared of weeds and grass, top it off with 50/50 soil, and plant corn and various squash into it.  I have a good amount of corn seeds, so I may try it this year.  I'm debating covering it with weed blocking fabric and cutting holes for plants throughout, much like folks do in row gardens.  I'm not a huge fan of the fabric and may just invest in heavy doses of bark mulch over cardboard, instead.  At any rate, it's going to be tough to get rid of all that natural grass.

I also need to consider my wildflower meadow and path that is on top of the leach field.  The very nature of the beast means quite a bit of thawing and refreezing, and this has played havoc on my landscape pins, not to mention any late planted perennials.  They tend to heave out of the ground.

I'm debating pulling the pins and plastic edging and trying to acquire some bricks as cheaply as possible and using that as edging.  Alternatively, I could just cover the pea gravel with bark mulch and let the edges blur into the meadow area.  Whatever I choose, I'll probably do the same through the lower half of the garden, around the lower patio, pond, and gardens.  Of course, this is all just a pipe dream at the moment...because here comes Mother Nature to remind us that March is full of surprises, and giving us a preview of what's still to come.