And So It Begins, Again
Monday, it was less winter.
The temperature jumped 30 degrees, there were geese flying north in the sky. More than 1 or 2 obviously sick and delirious ones. Flocklets. Several flocklets. (Or is it 'gaggles'? Gaggles of geese? Gagglets?)
Driving home after work, I saw actual brown ground rather than brown snow along the side of the road. Pulling into the drive, there was a pool of melted snow in the driveway from the 4' piles along the side. I sat there with my mouth open, hand mid-reach for the garage door remote.
Damn! I'll even do Winston Churchill one better. It is the beginning of the end.
So what did I do?
I ordered these:
4 highly disease and cold resistant apple trees that should need absolutely no spraying.
2 cold resistant sweet cherry trees. (Finally! Sweet cherries! All I've been able to find so far for USDA Zone 4 is pie cherries.)
2 Wisconsin weeping willows. (We need willows. We neeeeed to hear the wind blowing through the willows.)
3 Jostaberries. (Never heard of them, but what's a garden without surprises? And they have fall color! And even if they aren't tasty--though they sound like they are--I'm sure the birds are going to love them. I just hope they can do alkaline soil, unlike those weenie blueberries. (Sob! I've finally reached the conclusion that one can't grow blueberries in soil with a pH of 13.99. Ok. I exaggerate. pH of 13.89. Or thereabouts. It's the mile of limestone under the inch of topsoil. No fighting it.))
A variety of cold loving early, mid and late season strawberries (I've got a nice patch going but need more! And More! AND MORE! I'm competing with the small-handed ones and the dog in this.)
I think that's it, so far. Plus, those cold hardy blackberries that I re-ordered after the ones from last year went tits-up after being abandoned without telling me by whoever brought them in from the delivery guy last year, are coming.
Then, in another month or so (Too early! NO! Too early, Diana! slap, slap) I'll start driving by nurseries that aren't on my way home.
It's supposed to rain this weekend and be in the 50s? Can this be true? (and perhaps get the first of the thunderstorms), so I'm anticipating some real snow melt. (Gee, now I get to worry about flooding in the basement. Never, never happy.)
All this means is that in a few days, I will be wandering about the land with my schnozz an inch from the soil, in a raincoat, not a parka, peeping under mats of decomposed leaves and such looking for the noses of bulbs. It's too early, by a few weeks, but I won't be able to stop myself.
So, stomping I will go, with dog and girl. (The boy will have no part in it for there are no aliens to shoot in this slow bent-over shuffling along the paths.) Then I will come inside, glowering and glowing, for it is soon to be my time of year, just not quite yet. The time of muck and manure. We should be able to plant trees and bushes in about 6-8 weeks and garden things in about 12 weeks, so I need to start seeds (eep!) in about a month. Or less.
So much to do, so much to do.
I pity you all as I will take it all out on you, telling you of it in absolutely excruciating detail.
Labels: Garden Wars