Digging in the Cold Earth

 

It would be easy to say that it is too cold to be gardening. It snowed a few days ago. Enough to cover the ground and stick overnight. The ground however, has seen enough warm sun that it is thawed once again. As plants start to come up, I like to take stock of what's survived, what has done well, and what has thrived. 

"Taking stock" is a great expression. It implies that you can formulate a plan by becoming aware of the big picture. By thinking carefully, one might gain insight into the decision that needs to be made. Hmmm. Yeah, I'd say that works. 

 It is easy enough this time of year to keep my hands jammed into my coat pockets and my collar turned up against the chill wet winds. With the slightest warm breeze, the coat is traded for a fleece that I dont mind getting covered in dirt. As soon as the ground is thawed enough to stick a spade in the ground, it is time to start planning where to move plants, who to divide and what can I learn from last year's efforts?

Yesterday, during a very brief warm spell I took note of so many things I meant to do before winter stole daylight away. It is always discouraging at first, to feel so much un-done. It guarantees job security, right? Nothing in the garden is ever finished. 

With my hands warm enough with gloves on, I found a small bed that I meant to remediate back in the fall. By remediate, I mean pull out everything. Except the weeds. They can stay. Backwards, you say? Yeah, well, that's probably more true than words can explain. What I do nowadays is so different from what I used to do. I lift the plants I want to keep. In a perfect world, if I have timed everything perfectly, and a rain is forecast, then I plunk those plants into their new homes immediately. The roots don't even have time to dry off. Wet soil is a balm for the soul. Plants forgive all manner of sins when they are still asleep or just waking up. With a rain close behind, they wont even notice that they've been moved. A quick spread of woodchips over the disturbed soil, and all is back as it should be. 

I found a handful (okay, that is a lie... it was a profusion) of lupines that I wanted to salvage from this small bed, so with fork in hand, I popped them up, pulled the Creeping Charlie off their crowns, and in a few cases, pulled twined roots apart. Once there was a pile of lupine taproots on the ground, with their tiny leaves just opening, I started replanting them. 

This year, I am trying something new. I am sure it is a "wrong" thing to do, but that's why I think it will probably be fantastic. I am interplanting lupines with my raspberries. Raspberries have very shallow roots that push runners up this time of year. Usually I come along and spade a few dozen volunteers out of the chipped paths, and tuck them back into the raspberry rows. This year, I added lupines to the mix. My thinking is that the lupine roots will dig much farther down into the hard clay soil, breaking things up. The lupines usually start blooming about mid-to-late-May. Our raspberries are the "Heritage" variety, which I prefer to prune to the ground in early April. This means we dont get the early summer fruit, instead getting a mountain of berries in August. 

Some years, we suffer through raspberry cane borers.  Usually you can find the tips of the canes looking strange and droopy. If you follow the cane down about 5-10 inches, you'll find a series of tiny dark holes encircling the cane. That's where the parent bug inserted the larvae that is now chomping its way downward through the inside of the cane. Out come the pruners and about a foot below those tiny dots, I prune the cane. This can set the fruiting back by 2-3 weeks, at minimum. The upside is that it causes the flush of fruit to be slightly staggered, which can help avoid that feeling of being overwhelmed by berries!

aquilegia crysantha, last year

 

All of which leads me to wonder if the lupines will attract other beneficial insects that can potentially feed on the raspberry cane borer beetles. I've seen in dry years, the lupines will sometimes attract huge numbers of aphids. Unless it gets completely out of hand, I usually let the aphids do their thing and wait for some other critter to make meals of them. Last year, the aphids took a fancy to my bright yellow aquilegia crysantha that was just starting to bloom. A quick blast from the hose knocked most of the aphids down. Not sure what ate them down among the woodchips, but they didn't return. 

lupines in 2024

So, red and blue (and maybe some pink) lupines are going to come up amidst the raspberries. This should bring incredible color from the end of May into mid-June, to be followed by the raspberries starting to bloom and eventually setting fruit. Could be interesting!