Slightly more advanced than making ice cubes

So what do we northern idiots do when the mercury plunges so low that even jaded, long-time Alaskans say,”that can’t be right”?  Why we find something to do outside, of course!  Never mind that hypothermia, frostbite, and windburn are at the back of everyone’s mind.  Out we go! 

The children resembled sausages in pink, Gore-Tex casings after I was finished bundling them up for our windy, downtown outing a couple of weeks ago.  My look was more “purple marshmallow woman meets Davy Crockett”, but so be it, I was warm.  The husband claimed some mechanical items in the garage needed his urgent attention and so was off the hook (and out of the cold).

Besides Fur Rendezvous and Running of the Reindeer, there isn’t much going on outdoors in winter that gets me to drive downtown when it’s below zero.  This year was an exception.  Having heard vague whisperings of “ice sculptures” and “Town Square,” I figured we were due for a quick trip to view “The Crystal Gallery of Ice,” sculpted by a handful of gentleman whose names I can’t pronounce (and only assume are from a similarly chilly part of eastern Asia where they groom tots from a young age to whittle on ice cubes, then ice bricks, followed by ice blocks.  Following graduation, an arctic expedition to share their scholarship in that Land of Nearly Perpetual Frozen Water: Alaska.  OK, that’s all nonsense, but I kind of enjoyed my short lived ice carving fantasy). 

Fortunately, no melting had occurred (that was a joke, it was literally, to quote Dr. Evil “frickin’ freezing, Mr. Bigglesworth”) and only a dusting of snow slightly obscured the icy figures.  I’m just sorry you won’t be able to experience the heady mixture of numbness in the extremities, wind-stung face, and dash of chattering teeth as you view this post from your heated room.  Stick your head in the freezer for a few minutes for empathy, if you like.

 

I was pleasantly surprised at the skill on display.  I was less pleasantly surprised at how cold it was, plus wind.  I have no number to scare you with, only this: my fingers became so numb after a few photos that I (born here) was literally compelled to exit Town Square post-haste and enter the nearby shopping mall where I became just slightly less distracted than a texting teen driving in traffic and bought things I thought I needed, but on second thought, yes, I still needed.  After which I had a hot pretzel and ersatz melted cheese (to fully thaw the fingers, you understand), and then went back outside for a few more pictures at the behest of my by now overheating children.  (You try trudging around a shopping mall in a snowsuit, grumped a wee one.)

The picture above is probably about as close as this beast from the Galapagos (no doubt someone will let me know if I’m wrong here) will ever get to the frozen north I call home.  But I suppose this whole ice carving idea is also a lesson in making lemonade from lemons.  If you can’t beat the cold temperatures, make an ice sculpture.  Or move to Arizona and tend cacti.  The smart Alaskans do.

Three cheers for folks who carve ice!

 

Making lemonade from lemons?

Breaking News: North oddly hospitable to plants!

My usual reactions whilst reading the newspaper, though always thoughtful and apropos, range from a smirk, snort (of derision or laughter, your choice), eye roll, to your everyday exclamation of “we’re doomed!”  Today however, I was jolted from my repertoire of pat emotions and expressions by a shocking article in our local paper, the Anchorage Daily News.

The article, written by a Mr. Seth Borenstein of the AP, was a fascinating quarter page entitled, “Updated planting zones reflect warmer reality.”  What drew me in was the subtitle or whatever they call that thing in large font under the title, “USDA: More southerly vegetation has found north oddly hospitable.”  Now you get to choose what I found shocking.  What fun!

Choice A: Our daily paper has printed an article concerning gardening, in section A no less.  We are treated to a once-weekly garden column and, in my opinion, little other local coverage of that delightful hobby that ensnares approximately 31% of Americans.  Wait a minute, on second thought, that might be the percentage that regularly use expletives.  I’ve read 61% of persons in the USA garden, a figure that was not (I’d be willing to bet a six-pack of marigolds) gathered in Alaska.  61% of Alaskans have blue tarps but only 21% garden, according to the numbers I just made up.

Choice B: The north is termed oddly hospitable.  Why can’t we be just hospitable, why must we be odd?  A few plants do make their home here in the north country sans global warming: I can think of at least 4 offhand.  Oh, wait, never mind, that cherry tree did die after all.

Choice C: A dear man, one professor Richard Primack, said (and I must quote this in it’s entirety, too shocking) that “people who grow plants are well aware of the fact that temperatures have gotten more mild throughout the year, particularly in the wintertime (interruption by me: the temperature has been subzero almost every day of January. I am currently swaddled in blankets and a turtleneck under a thick wool sweater with ugly brown slippers to complete my indoor survival outfit.  And am still cold.  But who am I to complain, yesterday I wore my down jacket and hat in the house.  For goodness sake, prof, we’re usually in the twenties this time of year. Now back to the quote where he goes on to rub it in my face.) “There’s a lot of things you can grow now that you couldn’t grow before.” Yes, like false hopes and shattered dreams and that blasted orange Heuchera.  Whoops, not the Heuchera.  I’m waiting for that “warmer reality,” Dr. Primack.  Anytime now.

Choice D: The government actually updated the climate zones.  To give you an idea just how often this happens, the old map is from 1990.  One really terrific feature of the new map is “for the first time [it] include[s] more detailed factors such as prevailing winds, the presence of nearby bodies of water, the slope of the land, and the way cities are hotter than suburbs and rural areas.” Bravo!

Now that you’ve made your choice, I urge you to hotfoot it over to the USDA’s website and check out your zone.  I did just that and found myself to be in zone 6.  Just kidding, I only wish I was in zone 6. I’m still zone 4b. Wait, that is warmer!  Still, Alaska looks pretty cold according to the map and my current reality.  I’m waiting, Prof Primack, waiting for that “warmer reality”. Go ahead.  Anytime now.  Still waiting…. 


Are you enjoying a warmer reality? Oddly hospitable, perhaps?

Tebow vs. garden topic of some kind

My husband suggested I write about Tebow mania.  “You’re not being helpful!” I retorted.  Moments before, fresh out of garden related topics (don’t judge me, I have no garden right now), I had unwisely turned to the other half for ideas.  I get “football, thermometer, mouse corpses,” and big surprise “write about nothing.  Like Seinfeld.”  What am I supposed to do with those ideas?  Other than increase my reputation for odd, off-topic writing.

Another, rather better idea is finally offered. “Write The Gardening Handbook for Alaskans, or was it The Kid’s Coloring Book?”  OK, you twisted my arm, here is the outline of my magnum opus in rough form:

1. your soil is poorly drained

2. the moose and bears and rabbits eat your plants

3. your growing season is short

4. it won’t grow, overwinter, flower, or ripen

The End

Do you think I can retire on the proceeds of this handbook?  Though upon reflection, a 3 x 5 card would be more cost effective than a whole handbook for four tips.  In fact, school children could memorize these four simple pointers and the reality of gardening in our state would be ingrained from an early age.

“So you see, children, successful cultivation of rutabagas clearly violates principle number four and we mustn't be bitter.”

I am being counseled from across the room to include the pros with the cons lest I sound cynical.  Oh, ok, fine!

1. summer days last almost all night

2. relatively few introduced pests and diseases

3. cool season vegetables can grow to prodigious size, see my post here 

4. something will come to me, but a blank for now

What I need are two 3x5 flashcards and a couple of pages of blank paper on which to draw a few sketches of moose eating peonies or rabbits eating primulas and shazam! A handbook AND coloring book in one.  Let it not be said that the Last Frontier Gardener is out of ideas.  Anything but that.

Next week: Tebow lost out to a garden topic today, but will he win next week’s writer’s block?

 

How would the garden handbook from your area read?