Save some resolve for the garden, would you?

 

Not all my New Year’s Resolutions are for the mind, body, and money pit that is my home. I have some for the garden, too. In no particular order, here they are.

1. Put some edging in. I am getting tired of the “dance of the edging tool,” performed by yours truly, every year. Sometimes the dance is a long one, other times only a few egregiously encroaching feet of turf grass are whittled away and tossed into the compost pile or at a nearby brushy spot in the yard.

This year, in a burst of energy, the dance took me out of the garden and down the sides of my driveway. I have regained quite a bit of drive space. It’s amazing how tough grass is, growing right over and into the asphalt.

2. Prune those competing central-leader branches on the spruce trees the former homeowner planted. Of course they are over ten feet in the air and require a ladder. And have you ever leaned into a spruce tree? Those things are mean. They scratch me every time I mow the lawn around them.

What I would really love to do is to cut down that very blue spruce that they planted. It is just there with no rhyme or reason amongst the green spruce. I don’t have a prejudice against the color blue on a spruce tree, and have grown several blue semi-dwarf varieties at my last garden. It’s just eye-catching when/where it shouldn’t be.

3. Plant some trees. I’m thinking some tall ones in scale with my house. We need some more privacy from the street. When the neighbors’ dog takes a dump in my lawn, I want to be surprised by it.

There is no fun at all in knowing which beast did the deed because you just witnessed the cheeky devil relieve himself from the living room window. I get to speculate based on size of droppings, distance from road, and whether it’s firm/crusty/mushy. Points awarded if I step in it while mowing the lawn.

4. Grow some herbs and other goodies for the ladies. We have three amusing, disgusting, lovable, productive, fluffy chickens. They love watermelon and will take one down to the very rind but those don’t grow so well here. Carrots and potatoes do well here, but our chickens don’t love them. Hmm, what do grow?

To stave off chicken obesity and just because she wants to, my kid takes them on walks in a harness and leash for small dogs. Some chickens enjoy this more than others, or at least, some can run faster and escape from the prospect of being a spectacle. Cars have stopped in the street to watch. Our “pet dogs with feathers” deserve a home-grown treat or two. We’ll see what I come up with.

I did start this list with two items and seem to be adding and adding so I’d better wrap it up. I don’t want to get overloaded with projects outside. Nothing kills resolutions faster than apathy, right? Or is it injury? For me, the real fun is still just being in my garden, whether with a shovel or a lemonade, it’s all good. Happy New Year!

What needs doing in your garden? And will you do it in 2017?

I won the lottery

You’re thinking I’m being symbolic, right? Stay tuned. Meanwhile, a few important points of the past November in Alaska. I don’t say this is the worst November ever, because I’m an optimist. It could always be worse. But I think everything has suffered in comparison since my October jaunt to Florida.

1. November 1. Get into car accident on freeway. Airbags are deployed, thankfully not tempers. At least the kids are ok.

2. November 3. The kids are not ok: discover they have head lice. 

3. November 7. The fruits of my gambling career (with thanks to my octogenarian grandfather for showing me the ropes) that began on October 9 of this year: I fill out lottery winnings paperwork and send off to the great state of Florida. Envelope must be addressed to “Florida Lottery, Claims Processing.” As I write this address on the envelope my expectations of a payout dwindle. Just who, may I ask, upon seeing this envelope, would not be seized by an irresistible desire to rip it open?

Further contributing to my doubts, the back of the lottery ticket reads: “The risk of mailing ticket remains with the player,” which serves the dual purpose of covering theft by post office employee, lottery employee, loss of mail, or even act of God. A neat bit of work from the same breed of lawyer that crafted “do not eat raw batter” printed on the back of the cake mix box. Pfui!

4. November 8. I am talked out of seeing “Ender’s Game” at the movie theater and instead watch “Gravity”. I should have known better. Any movie that kills off George Clooney can’t be good. Nearly lose my dinner during the first twenty minutes eighty minutes. After Sandra Bullock lands in the water and floats to the top, my first thought was, “What, no shark?” closely followed by my second thought, “At least I’ll die on Earth.” If you get sick on boats, do not see this movie. You’re welcome.

5. November 9. I cheat Mother Nature and transplant three bits of Calamagrostis ‘Eldorado’ to the front garden. Weather is unseasonably warm in the 40’s (Fahrenheit).

6. November 12. Mother Nature doesn’t take kindly to cheaters. Things freeze and no snow.

7. November 15. After the whole house is laundered, wiped down, vacuumed, etc., and two hours minimum spent every day combing through hair, I am now an expert on lice. All this close grooming feels a little chimpanzee-like with the possible exceptions of the headlamp and tweezers. And no one eats the findings.

8. November 18. At 8:02am, I hear something so dreadful and shocking, I mentally curse the radio station that airs it. In future, let’s save “Jingle Bells” for after Thanksgiving (November 28), shall we? Boo on Magic 98.9FM in Anchorage. For my mental health, the radio in my car will now be at the classical music station until December 26, the official (at this blog anyway) Auditory Sanity Reclamation Day.

9. November 19. I had a chance to note the time for this milestone as well. At 8:09 am, it was –15F. Which would be well and good if this were January or northern Greenland.

 

I know you are all wondering if I am going to quit this cold country and retire with my Powerball lottery winnings to some warm, louse-free place, so I will set your mind at ease. I won $11. Which would be more impressive if the tickets hadn’t cost me $10. I wonder what delights December will bring?

 

Seen any movies? Christmas tunes in the air?

It’s all downhill from here

My fellow Alaskans, nay my fellow gardeners almost everywhere, we’ve survived the gloomy portion of the year. For the next 5 months, it is increasing daylight. Hurrah! I don’t count falling onto my bum on the icy driveway, ripping a mud flap off of my car on a poorly positioned landscaping rock, or not being able to cross country ski for a month for lack of snow as gloomy. (Painful and occasionally expensive, yes.)

From this point on there shall be smiles, vitamin D absorption, and the occasional peek at sandals hidden in a deep, dark corner of the closet. Last year the sandals came out for two days. Maybe this year, if I’m a really good little gardener, it will be three. 

The reality of more than 4 hours of sunshine has gotten me a little giddy. I made, in a rash moment, goals for my garden. Or the plain old yard that will become a garden after approximately ten years, a large chunk of my time, quite a bit of hollering at the fates, a few pints of my blood, and a fat wad of cash.

The goals don’t involve the pitchfork, as a direct result of the Great Leg Skewering of 2012 that will go down in family lore. A current tetanus shot saved the day, but not the dignity/mobility of the involved party. (As an aside and on the advice of my lawyer, never, never lend out your pitchfork.)

And they don’t involve the wheelbarrow (praise be, glory hallelujah!) because Santa brought me a sturdy garden cart. I most definitely favor two wheels over one, having had professional experience in bruise creation and OSHA hazard development with each. Sometime I’ll have to share the tale of the elephant that used to chase me on a daily basis whilst I was wheeling garden carts around at a previous gig. If escaping large mammals is a priority, stick with the cart, people.

Getting to the point has never been a feature of this blog, so thanks for hanging in there to find out the actual, real goals. 1. I will plant a tree. 2. I will plant no less than two dozen perennials of no more than three types. Humble, but realistic. A low expectation ensures happiness, I find.

Also, I must add 3. I will not holler at the fates more than reason when the fragile plantings are lightly trampled by errant moose, bicycle tires, or stray husbands trying to install new second-story windows atop a plant crushing aluminum ladder. Now I just need to find out how to artfully drape moose-repelling razor wire in a tree canopy…any tips?

 

Goals in the garden? Enjoying the sunshine?

Santa: Ten Things an Alaskan Gardener Wants

Dear Santa,

Despite appearances, this only looks incredibly greedy:

1. Two weeks more of spring and autumn.  Three days of spring and 8.5 hours of autumn are just not enough.  To demonstrate my restraint in this request, I’m not even going to complain about our weeklong summer.

2. Moose that eat bears and bears that eat stray dogs, cats, and moose.  The fewer mammals pillaging my veggie patch, the better.  And one more fecal present from the local pets, unearthed whilst I am working the soil barehanded, and I won’t be responsible for my code red response.

3. A tomato/pepper/(fill in difficult-to-grow-in-Alaska vegetable here) that goes from seed to ripe fruit in oh, say, four weeks.  Is that so much to ask, Santa?

4. Tools that (much like the elves surprised the shoemaker in the morning with assembled footwear) sharpen themselves overnight.  A couple of out of work elves would do nicely.  They can live under my bed between the fire escape ladder, rifle case, and Tyrannosaurus-sized dust bunnies.  Cozy!

5. Some electrified fencing, in case number two isn’t workable.

6. Another blue tarp. That was a joke, Santa.  (I was going more for deep belly laugh, rather than outright shock, dearest Santa, so apologies if my humor was unfunny.)  Would it be too much to ask if you would, for the sake of beauty, neighborly relations (see picture), and peace on earth, please replace all those blue tarps with brown ones?

7. Catalogs for seed/plant companies that actually ship to our forsaken state.  We are part of mainland America.  This fact seems to have escaped the notice of some mail order companies.  I’ve received calls from nurseries telling me sadly, after I’ve placed an order, that “we don’t ship to Alaska.” 

“But your catalog says you ship to the U.S. and Canada.” 

“Except Alaska.”

Well, that grieves me, Santa.  Were we, or were we not, granted statehood in 1959?  And more importantly, I really need that rare grass/heather/salvia/what-have-you and it’s just not to be found here in old A.K.  I’m sure Hawaiian gardeners know how I feel.  They are nursery shipping outcasts as well. Aloha!

8. Plants that repel politicians and door-to-door salespeople.  I’d place a few (OK, twenty) on my front porch.  Don’t say red geraniums already do that, Santa, that’s just an urban garden legend.  And Santa, the plant has to let Girl Scouts selling cookies through.  I love the Thin Mints and the Samoas, which you must admit, dear sir, are heaven in a manufactured food item.  One final note: the plant should be absolutely toxic to men peddling magazines.

9. A perfume that, when spritzed into the breeze, carries itself to the nearest non-gardening neighbors, and infects them with a rabid desire to not only beautify their property with plantings, but to haul off the rusted-out snow machines and ancient truck on blocks.  I’m still mulling over ideas on a name for this miraculous scent.  How about we go halvesies on the patent, Santa? 

10. This one is a grab bag, Santa, you pick: a spare pair of felcos, pair of well-made wellies in (gulp) purple or green, lumber for a fence, or new garden gloves.

I have been a good gardener, you can check your list twice!  (Just stick to your naughty/nice list and avoid the police blotter and certain of my relatives and we’re golden.)

Sincerely yours,

Christine B.

The Last Frontier Gardener

What’s on your list?

A Series of Unfortunate Events, Hurricane Included

 

Despite the gloomy sounding title, I guess I’m lucky.  The tree did not crash through the bedroom window, the trampoline did not mow over a pedestrian on it’s way to the neighbor’s ditch, and the computer is merely in a coma, versus flat lined. However, a blizzard has just been announced by the National Weather Service, so there’s that.   

Our desktop (say that slowly with me now, children: “desktop”) computer has been with us many years.  The way this machine behaves, you’d think it was a thrift store find, but my husband assures me we bought it retail, at about the time the Russians sold Alaska to the United States of America.  I am now typing on newer technology: a laptop that was manufactured circa Alaska gaining statehood (we’re the 49th state, in case you were wondering).  

The old desktop was very slow, and occasionally provoked me by freezing up or flat out refusing to be switched off.  Writing blog posts was especially agonizing.  The race was on to get my nonsense typed out before the great beast froze up on me.  Something once eminently useful, now a piece of junk. 

When people think Alaska, “hurricane” is not the first word to spring to mind.  Maybe “earthquake” or “wild animals eating one’s garbage” or even “cold, miserable, dark wasteland on the tundra” though I’m just speculating, of course.  Mother Nature threw us a curve ball yet again last Saturday, blowing in an unseasonal, warm(ish) wind from the south.  Not a gentle wind, mind you.  I’m not opposed to a little gentle wind as long as it gives a little body to my limp mane.  This Chinook wind took things to extreme.

We prepared as best we could as the wind started up.  Then the rain/snow came. Sideways.  The front window sprung a leak.  Mister Fix It was blown off his ladder trying to seal it with silicone it in the dark.  Don’t worry, he is tall, so the landing was shorter. 

However, that naughty trampoline rolled or flew or got up and walked through a formerly impenetrable thicket of alders and landed in a heap at the neighbor’s.  What little form and function left was reduced to nil after the head ATV driver pulled it back through the alders with a winch attached to the four-wheeler.  It is now completely retired from all jumping activities (see above picture), and on a related note, we have acquired ample metal to practice welding modern garden art.  Something once useful, now a piece of junk.

We awoke (if you can call tossing and turning, and waking at every big gust sleeping) to a tree blocking our garages and driveway.  The tree was kind enough to break halfway up the trunk, so there was a mere thirty feet of it to fly through the air and land on our roof and bash our (new) gutter on it’s way down.   

As we walked through the ‘hood admiring the damage the next day: at least a dozen large white spruce, a couple of which were blocking driveways or roads, a few birches, and an entire roof of shingles on one home.  Poor sap, hope he had insurance.  A little further down the hill, I spied a chimney blown over, a first for me.  Those of you in windy areas, no laughing now!  I’ve never experienced winds over 100 mph (I’m not counting those breakneck amusement park rides at Universal Studios) in my life, so the wonder and destruction of it all amazes me.

*Update: as I tap this masterpiece whilst my house is literally shaking from the wind, we are enjoying the first blizzard of the season, with 1/4 mile visibility.  And along with another dose of 100mph winds.  Is the Apocalypse near?  I hope not, I haven’t tried growing artichokes yet….

 

Got hurricanes?  Blizzards?  Ill-tempered computers?

Travelling to warmer climes this Christmas?

How does maroon and purple carpet grab you?  I feel the same way, perhaps even more strongly, but alas, maroon and purple carpet is my fate.  At least until it gets replaced.  Priority one: getting the ceilings and walls in the bedrooms painted before we move in, which has been slightly more labor intensive and time consuming than I had supposed.  Also, I had forgotten just how much paint a person can acquire on one’s body in the space of three days.  The magnetic paint (don’t ask) was the absolute worst.  I’m still picking off traces of it on my wrist.  Maybe it will help with any iron deficiencies I have. 

Translation of above excuses, whimpering, and whining: I am out of time and energy, so relying on that old trick of picture=thousand words seems the logical move, even for me.  For those lucky enough to be heading south this holiday season: 

This charming little display was part of a temporary reptile exhibit in no less a place than Palmer, Alaska.  Which I assure you has no native vultures, reptiles, or desert succulents.  More’s the pity.

Any painting counsel for me?  Times you ran out of water in the desert?

This just in: Last Frontier Gardener finds home!

And perhaps just as important, a garden.  Some of you may recall that we recently sold our home (and my garden) of ten years.  For a refresher on my angst click here.  I have been gardenless (and homeless) for over a month.  Not homeless in the street person sense, but shoehorning four people into a one bedroom apartment doesn’t make me feel like calling this itty bitty place “home”.

On the upside, our little rental does have a few perks.  I have the city bus schedule for a stop by our window memorized.  And for those looking to rent or buy in the area, the police response time is fantastic.  Three sirens a day is typical, but all bets are off on Friday or Saturday nights.  My record is eight in a row, but that included the ambulance and fire trucks, too.  I won’t mention the incident of the inebriated pedestrian falling into the road and getting hit across the street, but you get the idea by now.

Another perk, for some: we’ve got built-in babysitters.  My sister lives next door.  My brother lives upstairs.  And my mother’s office is two doors down.  We’re like the Clampett version of the Kennedys and their family compound in Massachusetts.  I’m trying to convince my other sister to move in, but strangely, inexplicably, she has resisted the idea so far.  Maybe she doesn’t want to babysit my kids.

And finally, the best perk of all, my vehicle now has a remote auto-start function.  So on those cold days (like the miserable, single digit weather we had last week) I can press a button in my apartment and my car starts, warms up, and manages not to get stolen before I get in it.  This delightful feature would never have been installed without the on-street parking we now enjoy.  A few weeks of the cold temps and the LFG hubby broke down and took the cars in for the old fixeroo.  Thank you, bitterly cold weather, thank you!

So I’ll be really sad to leave all this, as you can see.  But we are to sign our lives away (otherwise known as closing on a house) this week.  Wish me luck, or at least, a well with no arsenic in the water.

Any good reasons for living next to family?  On a busy street?

“Have a snarly, gnarly Christmas” & other classics

Surely the tone of this piece is clear right from the start.  If not, for those perhaps half asleep or jet-lagged, let me be understood.  After enduring the traffic, the icy roads, the brown snow, and the single digit temperatures, the one thing I’m not is jolly.  Sensible folk would do something to effect a cure, perhaps drink a mug of hot cocoa adorned with whipped cream and sprinkles, buy a pair of warm boots, or get on the next plane to Hawaii.  Me?  I am sliding deeper into my “winter funk” and strangely, perversely almost, enjoying it.

I notice the Christmas songs are now on twenty four hour rotation.  The oldie but goodie category (Frank Sinatra, Eartha Kitt, etc.) seems to escape my snide observations, but the more modern recordings are easy pickings.  Some of the singers actually sound deranged about the thought of the upcoming holidays.  This seems like a good place to mention the synthesizer, an instrument waaaay overdone in Christmas songs from a certain decade.  And the station gets changed immediately if there is a solo more than two octaves above how the music is written.  I prefer to keep the windshield intact, thanks.

What’s the point of all this grumpiness?  I want to share the coping mechanism that gets me through “all Christmas songs, all the time”, plus a heavy dose of “winter funk.”  My breakthrough came when I began to substitute alternate lyrics and titles.  Suddenly, life was bearable, or at least, the twentieth Mariah Carey holiday tune in one hour, less inclined to tip me over some psychopathic boundary. 

Can you guess what these used to be?

1. Mocking Aloud the Christmas Letter

2. Sarah Got Run Over by a Hater (In A Volvo)

3. Congress Fighting in an Open Mire

4. All I Want For Christmas is j.crew

You see, it doesn’t have to be clever or make sense, just fun!

Here are some for you to try:

1. Do You Hear What I Hear?

2. It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

3. Over the River and Through the Woods

4. Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

5. (and my new favorite…) Please Daddy, Don’t Get Drunk This Christmas

Care to share a coping mechanism?  Christmas song spoof?

The off season: hooray?

Alternatively entitled, “What to write about when there’s nothing to write about”, or possibly, “Winter blahs: yet again”.  There comes a time every year when I mentally scroll through blog posting ideas and come up with nada.  Zilch, zero, nothing.  With the temperatures hovering in the twenties (Fahrenheit), and the gravel encrusted snow as my muse, how could I come up short, you ask.

Some of you preparedness nuts out there may remember I wrote about having a few posts on the back burner for situations just like this.  A glance at my rough drafts reveals that none are quite ready.  You’ll just have to wait for my soon-to-be-famous treatises on bunny boots, ice fishing, and snow shoes.  Some much needed research has to happen first.  I say that with heavy heart and a large dose of trepidation.  Just who looks forward to spending the day on a frozen lake with a fishing pole?  Perhaps my impending research will reveal the answer.

I have no inspiration to catalogue, no tours to sing the praises of, and no to-do tasks to share.  If it hasn’t been done by now, it’s frozen and not getting done until spring.  We’re not even in a “pretty” phase of winter, with a landscape looking as if it were dusted by white frosting.  No, no.  Imagine more of a blighted look, with a dash of grayish, dirty snow and complete with a repressed looking populace, clad in large coats and bad attitudes.  So I ask you, what do I write about?  I’ve got nothing….

What do you write about (or like to read about) in the off-season?  

Wintertime survival list: no chemical stimulants required

A patch on the hubby's Scout uniform.

Perhaps you are unaware of the Boy Scout motto.  And you are wondering just what it has to do with a wintertime survival list for gardeners.  Having lived with an Eagle Scout for nigh on eleven years, I have picked up this much: "Be prepared."  Now, I don't know how to tie any of those fancy-shmancy knots, I don't have a pocket knife, and my firestarting tends to involve a lighter of some kind, but I have found that when I am prepared, I am not (as) afraid, so I am going to apply the Boy Scout motto to that trial of trials (at least for northern gardeners), winter.

Perhaps you are wondering just why it is sometimes termed "old man" winter.  Me, too.  I have been thinking about the wonderful qualities of some elderly men I know and I don't think those qualities apply to the term.  No, probably more like "stubborn old cuss" or "hornery, mean, son of a gun", you get the idea.  Or just picture Clint Eastwood in any of his movies.  "Do [you] feel lucky punk?  Well, do ya?"  A really cold winter, with a furious north wind that (skip ahead, squeamish ones) freezes your boogers when you inhale through your nose and dries the moisturizer right off your face, that's old man winter.  I should add, he sucks the hope right out of a despondant gardener waiting for spring and the first green, growing thing.  To aid my sanity and arm myself against such an entrenched and ancient foe, I have devised a short list of survival techniques that get me through the really tough months.  For me here in Alaska, those challenging months are January and Febuary.   

Part of my home garden library: bliss!

1.  garden books and magazines: Sometimes I will find myself staring at the same picture for a few minutes, daydreaming I am actually there.

My skis making an appearance with one of the "moose-repelling" pinwheels I've written about in other posts.

2. outdoor activities: I don't actually hate winter, so I am learning to do things like ice skate and cross-country ski.  I've also set a goal to be outside twice a week doing something with the family.  We'll see how it goes....

Working on a post for the blog.

3. blog: A fun, new (for me) way of chronicling my garden adventures.  I also enjoy reading/checking out pictures on other blogs, and learning about other gardens/gardeners, too.

My smelly soccer bag.

4. pursuing new interests: Over various winters, I have taken up indoor soccer, sewing, and singing in a choir (I'm an alto).

5. refining my "gotta-have-it" plant list: I could do this for hours, and I often do.  Much to my own annoyance, I tend to use scraps of paper and sticky notes and once, in Seattle at a flower show, I used a napkin.  Very classy and organized, no?

Beautiful, yes.  Bleak, yes.

I prepare myself for the bleak months by trying to fill time spent not gardening, with other productive, edifying, and enjoyable activities.  I fully realize every gardener and climate is a bit different, so I ask: What are the tough months where you garden?  And how do you cope?

Planning for winter beauty

With the onset of another Alaskan winter and a dusting of the white stuff, some gardeners go into hibernation.  Others head to Hawaii or Arizona.  Others still, resign themselves to the inevitable and decide to enjoy the austere beauty that we call the winter landscape.  It's not challenging to find grandeur in the wilds of Alaska, but is any of this beauty to be found in your garden?  If you have not noticed it before, perhaps some adjustment is called for. 

Some are just a bit too enthusiastic with fall clean up.  Picture a mixture of Paul Bunyan and Mary Poppins.  Everything must be spit-spot and the hand pruners are slicing away vigorously for three days straight.  The chores are not done until every perennial is cut to the nubbins and every annual yanked out.  For many years my own garden looked this way in late autumn.  After the big cleanup, a heating pad and pain meds, I would look resentfully at the cause of so much pain and effort and my thoughts would be something along the lines of "good riddance."  I am softening my views, it seems.  Increased demands on my time prevented a perfectly clean sweep one autumn and that winter I noticed something I had not in years past.  My garden was interesting.  Even in winter.   

I'm not suggesting that a Paul Bunyan-type gardener go cold turkey.  Start slow if you like.  Increased attention is being paid to perennials that shine in the fall.  Perhaps those might be left intact.  What about plants with interesting seedheads or very woody, rigid stems that might make it through a winter?  Do I even need to mention ornamental grasses?  Of course I do.  If you have them, leave them intact through the winter (Phalaris pictured above).  What about your container plants?  I used to pluck each one out and fling the whole bit on the compost pile every fall like clockwork.  With my new combination of insight and laziness, I leave many plants in the containers (example below).  I might as well, they are going to die anyway.  I'd rather enjoy the show.

Trees add a lot of interest to the winter landscape.  Those blessed with established, healthy trees can just enjoy the show.  When it comes to planting a new tree, a person with a small yard needs to be especially choosy, but even those with serious acreage need to decide carefully when it comes to placement near the home.  Evergreen trees, like spruces and pines, add bulk and presence.  They are great background plants in summer that can come to the foreground after all the deciduous trees lose their leaves.  Some varieties have needles that turn colors in fall or winter for increased interest.  Deciduous trees are also attractive in their own way without their leaves.  Some varieties have attractive bark, like birches (pictured below), that can be featured with a little planning, others have brightly colored berries or fruit.  Some shrubs also have interesting bark or berries for winter, like Physocarpus (ninebark) or Viburnum.  They are especially valuable in small yards or near the house, where you don't want some thirty foot evergreen tree blocking the little bit of (precious) winter light that comes into the home.

Ah, what to say about hardscape (in other words, everything but the plants themselves) in the winter garden?  A dusting of snow can conceal many things but it can be revealing, too.  How is your space divided?  Rocks, timbers, concrete, plastic, or metal.  Is the overall shape pleasing, jarring, satisfying?  A straight line (like a path to the front door) can be very agreeable, but so can a gentle curve (like a path through the garden).  When covered in a thin layer of snow, the outline can be discerned.  Textures come into play: smooth, like concrete, versus rough, like gravel.  Directionality is a feature: vertical, like a copper trellis, versus horizontal, like a raised planter.  All these things can add appeal or interest to a garden in winter.

One more thing that can be very interesting in the winter landscape: land contours.  Slopes, inclines, knolls, rises, mounds, or hills.  All wonderful for effect.  And what effects they can be: humor, awe, mystery, drama.  It reminds me an instance when I was completely re-designing the front yard a few years ago and was trying to contour a small rise for privacy.  I imagined a tree or two planted on it and a few shrubs would shelter the path to my front door very nicely.  A neighbor thought I was making a burial mound.  Ha, ha.  Obviously my little contour was a touch too suggestive.  I pursed my lips and set about smoothing the edges out a bit.

So to conclude, there are many different ways to add interest to the garden in winter.  Take stock of your space and see if plants, hardscaping, and land contours might aid you in achieving an effect worth looking at in the cold months.  It's the next best thing to wintering in Hawaii.

Prescription for winter blues: garden books

What's the difference between an indespensible and inspirational reference book and a rectangular, three-dimensional, 75 dollar dust magnet?  Answer: only difference, how often you pick it up and use it.  There are plenty of reviews out there that describe certain garden books as "must-have" that I respectfully disagree with.  I should know, I have a small library of garden books I rarely, if ever, pick up and read.  I have listed below a few (that are especially relevant to gardeners up here in the north country) that I refer to time and time again.  Granted that there are not libraries worth of garden books just for Alaskans.  There are however, several books of note for gardener's in cold climates.  Let's dive right in, shall we?

Growing Shrubs and Small Trees in Cold Climates by Nancy Rose, Don Selinger, and John Whitman and published by Contemporary Books is a nice compendium of popular trees and shrubs to try.  The first part of the book deals with each genus and includes sections on: how they grow, where to plant, landscape use, planting, transplanting, how to care for, problems, propagation, and special uses.  The varieties of each genus and their height/width and hardiness are listed, as well as sources.  The second part of the book is all about the basics of growing shrubs and small trees.  The authors also rate varieties from one to five stars based on ornamental attributes.  Lots of pictures, too.

Dirr's Hardy Trees and Shrubs: An Illustrated Encyclopedia by Michael A. Dirr and published by Timber Press is divine on a winter's day.  Dr. Dirr is regarded as a worldwide authority on woody plants.  This book lists more than 500 species and about 700 different varieties.  Lots and lots of pictures.  And plenty of Dr. Dirr's trademark candor and wit.  A must-have book intended for gardener's in zone 3-6.

Growing Perennials in Cold Climates by Mike Heger and John Whitman does for perennials what the "woodies" book in the series (mentioned above) does for trees and shrubs.  How to grow, where to plant, companions, planting, how to care for, problems, propagation, special uses, and sources are listed for each genus.  A handy variety guide completes each section complete with ratings up to five stars.  The second part of the book deals with the basics of growing perennials, from site selection to tools and supplies.  There are pictures for each genus (not enough in my opinion).  There is also a rose book in the series for those northern gardeners that suffer from that addiction (I'm in recovery).

As far as Alaskan books go, Lenore Hedla's The Alaska Gardener's Handbook, is a classic.  It can be found at the Loussac library, at bookstores new or used, or check amazon.com.  It was one of the first garden books I ever read.  Great for the beginning or new-to-Alaska gardener.

A couple of useful regional handbooks with applications in AK are: Tree and Shrub Gardening for Minnesota and Wisconsin and Perennials for Minnesota and Wisconsin, both by Don Engebretson and Don Williamson, published by Lone Pine.  They might be difficult to find locally; I got mine online.  Most of the picks are hardy in zone 3 or 4 and there are pictures on every page.  This is the sort (and size) of book that is handy to pitch into the car in the summer as a reference while out shopping at nurseries.

Yes, I freely admit I am an ornamental grass fanatic.  Even if you are trying grasses for the first time, you will enjoy the pictures taken by Saxon Holt in Nancy Ondra's Grasses: Versatile Partners for Uncommon Garden Design, published by Storey Books.  This was the first grass book I ever purchased and it really opened my eyes to their beauty and uselfulness.  The book is very readable, not to dry or overly-detailed, but it's the photography that sold me.  I could reccommend it as a coffee table book, it's that gorgeous.

While we are on the topic of grasses, anything by Rick Darke (a worldwide authority) is desireable.  My current favorite is Grasses for Liveable Landscapes published by Timber Press.  Everything you might wish to know is covered.  Don't worry, there are plenty of inspiring pictures to hold interest!  The encyclopedic portion is indespensible.  Many, many ornamental grasses are hardy for us in Alaska: run, do not walk, to the library to check this one out.

This just scratches the surface of books tailored for cold climates, but I can reccommend all the above books to any Alaska gardener.  For more selections, search "cold climate gardening books" online.  And have your wallet or library card handy.

Prescription for winter blues: garden magazines

So what do you do in the wintertime?  Downhill skiing, ice skating, snowmachining, ice fishing, sledding, skijoring, mushing, cross-country skiing, walking, snowshoeing, etc.  If you are an Alaskan, gardening is not on the list.  I don't count watering the houseplants as gardening.  How does the avid gardener get through these lean times?  Well, books and magazines help.  If we can't participate in something, we like to watch someone else doing it, right?  How else can armchair quarterbacks, C-SPAN, and travel shows on cable be explained?  Garden mags can be a lifeline on a long, dark afternoon.  The colorful pictures transport us to gardens in Seattle, LA, or Conneticut.  Anywhere is good, so long as it is somewhere that's not under four feet of snow.

The problem is, as with all products, there are inferior ones out there.  Some garden mags just don't deliver.  When I buy a garden magazine, I want to see a lot of gardens, find out the new products, hear from the experts, etc.  I don't want lots of casserole recipes, home decor tips, and lifestyle articles.  So when I am on the hunt for a quality garden mag, I usually confine my pick to a few names, gleaned from long experience and a good chunk of wasted cash.

The British just "get" gardening.  I have never visited (someday, I hope!) the place, but many world-famous gardens are located in Britain: Sissinghurst, Foggy Bottom, and Great Dixter spring to mind, but there are scads more.  They also turn out some spectacular garden magazines.  Plenty of pictures, great colors, experts, behind the scenes, current gardening events, new products, and more.  Check out: BBC's Gardens Illustrated.

We have some nice publications on this side of the Atlantic, too.  The great thing about some American garden mags is you have a hope and a prayer your region (and plants that thrive there) might be occasionally featured.  Our climate in Alaska is (mostly) very different from England, and anywhere else in America for that matter.  In Anchorage, with our measly 16" of annual precipitation, we are a far cry from London's 23", Seattle's 37", and Conneticut's (Hamden) 47 inches.  Every town/state/region has different weather, so it makes sense to have regional features in the magazines.  I'm just glad a few gardening editors have caught on to the fact.  I might enjoy reading about and looking at Seattle gardens, but I am ecstatic when an Alaskan garden or gardener is featured.  It's like an affirmation Alaskans actually exist as part of the gardening community.  Check out: Fine Gardening (my favorite), Garden Design, Horticulture.

 Next time you are cruising through the bookstore or grocery store, make a detour to the magazine aisle. There are more garden magazine choices at the bookstore, but if one is not handy, surf the web for them.  Garden magazines are also great for perusing whilst waiting for one's feet to thaw after a long day of mushing.  Happy trails!

For next time: great books for Alaskan (and other cold climate) gardeners

What's happening outside on November 4th?

In a word, nothing.  But perhaps that's a little unkind and abrupt.  Still no snow in my part of town.  It's 31 degrees outside.  To put that in perspective, my refrigerator temperature is currently set at 39 degrees.  All the bergenias in the yard have an unhappy, droopy look.

Contrast that with how perky they looked last month.

The Cornus alba 'Prairie Fire' is clinging to its last three leaves.  The golden hair grass, Deschampsia flexuosa 'Aurea', is still looking dapper amongst the wreckage.  Also the brownish sedge, Carex flagellifera, is still effective in the background of the picture below. 

Did I find anything else trying to shrug off the inevitable?  I bought cross-country skis.  Does that count?

Frosty day

It was a wee bit chilly today.  Gloves and scarf weather, most definitely.  The hops vine was withered, crackly moose fodder (above).  The water has frozen solid in the rain chain (pictured below), much to the disappointment of the kids, who love to swing it around and empty the water out.  How does 20 degrees Fahrenheit sound?  Depends on what part of Alaska you call home.  Today that might seem cold for Juneau and warm for Fairbanks, but for me in Anchorage this morning, it sounded like reality.  Each degree of temperature lost becomes precious at a certain point and we are certainly at that point. 

Finding a silver lining in every (snow) cloud is important at this time of decreasing daylight hours and temperatures.  How about the lovely hoar frost on all the plants (pictured on Pinus mugo, below) this morning?  No?  Then perhaps this: at least I don't have to mow the lawn for another 7 months.  

"The snow is here!!"

For those of you that have seen the animated movie, "The Secret of NIMH," just substitute the word "snow" in the place of "plow" when Auntie Shrew is screeching "The plow is here!"  That's a bit how I feel today.  Yes, winter is truly here now.  Yesterday snow was on the mountains and the upper hillside.

Today, it's everywhere, and still coming down.  Even though it is still pretty dark at 9am at this time of year, I grabbed the camera to document the first dusting of the season (pictured on Bergenia).

If you will recall, after Auntie Shrew made the raucous proclamation mentioned above, pandemonium ensued.  Small animals were racing away from the plow as fast as they could.  It was a fearful, hysterical scene.  For those that haven't seen the movie, the animals are portrayed as quite intelligent little things, some with the intelligence of humans. They knew the farmer would plow the field in the fall, just like every year.  But most made no plans about it until the plow was bearing down on them. (Achillea 'Terracotta' pictured)

                                    

A bit like many Alaskans.  The snows come, and we know they will, just like every year.  We wait and wait until the bitter end (of autumn) to do those things that need doing before the snow flies.  For example, change out summer tires to snow tires.  Nope, I haven't done it yet either.  There is a considerable line at the tire changeover place (pictured below), and it's only going to get longer. 

We haven't gotten back our "driving-in-snow-legs" yet (a bit like sea legs, but you get the idea), they seem to take a few snows to kick in .  The sirens were wailing several times this morning.  Folks didn't slow down for the slick conditions, I suppose.  At the onset of winter, there are always cars in the ditch on the freeway.  We just aren't ready for the snow, some of us. 

But is the Alaskan gardener ready for the snow?  I find the first snows to be very beautiful in the garden, highlighting form and texture in a delicate way.  And hiding the tarp.  For gardeners, as always the proof is in the pudding.  How does your design hold up in winter?  Does your garden still capture your interest at a glance?  If the answer is in question, stay tuned for some winter design ideas coming soon....