What happens next?

Bleak skies between winter snows

  

Frost coated garlic coming up in the raised beds.

Something happens in the period between when the leaves blow from our yard into the neighbors and then on into the woods far beyond. When the sun squeaks through greasy skies and gives precious little warmth. It is a strange time. Not quite winter but it presages the inevitable. Most years we watch the weather systems zip around us, leaving us in a relatively snow-free bubble. It might seem that would be desirable, but one of the things I have learned about plants is that they need snow. Snow cover provides insulation (and warmth!) and also slowly releases moisture. 

Without snow, what I have seen is that our plants desiccate. The winds roll off the plowed fields to the south of us, with nothing to stop the chilled air. Once it hits our property, it drops into the garden and that cold mass of air finds the lowest spots and hugs the ground. Until recently, I hadn't really seen how this happens. Now I have seen the effect it has had on certain exposed areas of the garden. (More on windbreaks and creating micro-climates in another post.)

 

When I first started planting garlic, years and years ago, I did it like most folks. Long rows, in the ground. Maybe mulched, maybe forgot. After my coma, my mobility was severely limited, so the family helped me return to the garden by utilizing raised beds made from old watering troughs filled with compost. Once we started growing garlic in raised beds, there was a ton of new information to be gleaned! For one thing, raised beds brings plants that much closer to your face. Might sound obvious, but I am amazed at how much more I see of the relationship between plants and their soil by being that much closer to the growing surface. In this image above, you can clearly see that the garlic has sprouted during a warm spell during the middle of January weather. Morning frost has coated it but garlic seems to just shrug it off.  What isn't evident in this photo is the other seeds that I sowed along with the garlic. Depending on the bed, I used either cilantro or poppies or red russian kale. 

In December and January, I like to get our winter sowing started. Perennial seeds seem to appreciate the repeated chilling and thawing that winter offers. Strangely, what is most difficult is keeping everything watered. In the image below, some of the winter sown jugs are open and others are taped shut. This was a trial to see if having the lids on benefits or hinders the growth of the seeds. What I found is that it is remarkably hard to get ample water through that tiny milk jug opening. Snow just doesn't get through. The soil mix certainly freezes and thaws, but after a few rounds of that, the moisture is essentially freeze dried out of the soil. The open topped containers fared slightly better since they were able to collect snow and the occasional rain. What I hadn't anticipated was having to deal with squirrels and chipmunks wanting to plant their acorns and walnuts in the containers. After coming out mid-winter to discover seeds and soils sprawled all around, I realized I needed to figure out a way to keep the little varmints out. That's where the aluminum stair railing with the woven wire fencing came in. Quick little barrier to the buggers.

It was only after watching the squirrels doing this that I came to realize that these little jugs thawed on a sunny day, and froze right up as soon as the sun set. Certainly pros and cons to this. For seeds that need vernalization and stratification, it is ideal. It hadn't occurred to me that it could have a downside until we got into early spring. All of a sudden, the lidded jugs would warm up to a balmy 40-50 degrees during the sunny days when the outside weather might only get up to 30F. Quite a few seeds did their level best to start when the weather started climbing... only to get frozen (and sometimes killed) when the weather dropped below the 20s as soon as night came on. Since these jugs were on a raised table, made from pressure treated lumber and wire fencing, this meant the plants didn't have the thermal mass of earth beneath them to modulate the temperature swings. 

Winter sown seed in early 2024

 

Red twig dogwood (Cornus sericea)

So, why this photo of red twig dogwood? Well, I think that having such wonderful color when the skies are grey and everything else is either white, grey or muddy... just brightens everything up. We all need some color in the middle of winter. One thing I hadn't considered when I first started experimenting with trying to start cuttings of cornus, is that it roots no matter what you do to it (almost!)  The plants in this photo were cuttings maybe 3-4" long just shoved into wet mud three or four years ago. The reason I took the photo was so that I would remember why I originally planted them in this spot. Strangely enough, what I wanted was block the view into the back part of the yard. Now I have some young trees (paper birch, Betula papyrifera) in tree tubes behind the cornus, and someday they will tower over this wall of red. Given how much the tree tubes have accelerated the growth of the paper birch, I expect that it wont take overlong before the trees are clearly visible from behind the cornus. 

I have seen other gardens with other varieties of cornus including yellow twig 'Arctic Fire' cornus. I would love to add that blast of yellow bark to our winter palette. 

Two years ago, we picked up a few other forms of cornus at a local plant sale. One had variegated foliage and red stems. Another cornus stolonifera that I planted a few years ago, 'Pucker Up' has done well, but hasn't gone through a growth spurt yet. The last cornus I acquired two years ago was a cornus kouza 'Constellation'. One of the things I need to address this winter is choosing which of the two main stems to keep as this kouza is starting to put on strong growth. 

All of this is really a preface to what I do during the winter. I walk around the garden and look at the bones of everything laid bare. Being able to see the negative space left open by the herbaceous perennials and the absent annuals, enables me to envision how the spaces will start to change and fill in. Years ago, shrubs and trees were out of my price range. If I had $50 it went towards perennials with the mistaken assumption that I would get more benefit sooner. Seeing how shrubs and trees have created the bones of this garden (after the fact) has been enlightening. 

Walking around the frozen garden means experiencing our woodchipped paths in their ice covered slipperiness. Walking across the icy grass feels almost fluffy in comparison. One of the things I never expected to see are the tiny seedlings popping up as soon as the snow is blown away. The ground can be frozen, the air can be in the teens or colder... and there will still be tiny little seedlings doing their best to get a jump on things. In the fall, I can't really see them. There's too many other competing things. Leaves cover the tiny seedlings. Frequent rain makes loitering impossible. And if the weather is good in the autumn, there's stuff to do! But by the time winter settles in to stay, those tasks are sidelined till thaw. That leaves plenty of time to stop and stare.... assuming of course I am dressed appropriately!