Waiting on Spring

At this point in March I often feel like this:

Weighted. Winter feels heavy and I feel like I'm sinking. I know spring is around the corner. I can hear it in the birdsong and see it in the swelling buds on the rose bushes. But temperatures haven't risen above 40 degrees in a long time and I'm beginning to forget what sunlight looks like. What to do?

Go to the beach.

One of the best things about living in the Chicago area is Lake Michigan. There's something so magical about the windswept dunes and the calls of gulls. I don't care what season it is, the lake is calling me. The mystical combination of wind, water and sand sweeps the cobwebs from my soul. Once again I can marvel at the power of nature and the stubborness of stone. Spring...please come soon!

Winter is for Planting Trees

I think long and hard about what trees I plant in my yard. I don't have nearly enough space for everything I want to grow. I regularly threaten that if the neighbors ever move, I'm buying the house next door, tearing it down and planting more trees.

Hey, cuties!

I come by the tree in obsession honestly. My father is this very moment raising two baby oaks of mysterious origin. He picked up the acorns in the forest preserve a few blocks from their house. Other than being something in the white oak family, we're not sure what they are. I'm waiting for another few sets of leaves before I send pictures to my pals at The Morton Arboretum for identification. Dad and I are bouncing around ideas of where we'll plant these dimpled darlings. They will eventually be large shade trees and neither of us have the space. In the meantime, they have been transplanted into pots in his sunniest window and are doing just fine. Other people start their lettuce right now. We, the crazy tree geeks, start wee little oaks.

Renegade Rosemary

I did it again. I snagged one of the rosemary plants from the pitch pile at work in sheer stubborness. I figured I was rescuing it from the compost, so why not give it a chance? Turns out I've finally found rosemary's happy place in my house - the kitchen windowsill.

There wasn't room in the Fertile Crescent (the file cabinets under the south window in the study where most of the rest of the houseplants reside) so I stuck it on the windowsill figuring it would only be there a couple of weeks. That was in November. The damn thing is doing fine and growing a little bit. We've been using it here and there (handy snips at the ready!) and I water it probably every other day. We did move it to the counter at night when the temps dipped below 10 degrees a couple of weeks ago.

We don't have huge wide windowsills, so I'm not planning on doing herb gardening above the sink forever. I just can't bring myself to move the rosemary when it's so happy where it is. And if it keeps growing, I'll have to pot it up and then it won't fit anymore. Dammit. Stupid plant.

One Resolution for a New Year

Yes, it's that time again...resolution time! Normally, I'm not one to make outlandish, impossible promises to myself. My usual New Year's resolution is to drink more champagne.

As I think about it this year, I am going to suggest to you a resolution that can be pretty easy to keep, once you make a habit of it. Stop and savor. Yep, that's it. But I challenge you to actually do it. In our busy lives, how often do we pause a moment and breathe it all in?

Take the time to notice the way winter light falls silvery on the peeling bark of a tree. Stop and study the elegant buds of a beech or the fat flower buds of a lilac. Breathe in the sharp air of a cold day. Pause and savor the last ruddy glow of sunset as it glimmers behind the ink etchings of naked tree branches. Mother Nature gives us many gifts, reward yourself by paying attention to her beauty.

Taking the Container Garden into Autumn

This year, I didn't plant very many containers due to the drought. It was just too tough keeping them watered. My one expection is the planter box that hangs on the back porch rail. This spring I went for a blowsy romantic look in soft pastels. My husband has a thing for snapdragons, so they are always part of this combination.

Because it's just outside my back door, it gets watered frequently. I used the potting mix from work which is a nice blend that includes a low grade fertilizer and a wetting agent. I also added a liberal dose of a slow release granular fertilizer. I think I achieved the goal!

We're in the midst of autumn, and since I was only planting one container, I splurged on changing it out for fall. I confess, I hate mums. They're so fragile that the stems break as soon as you pick them up, much less manuever them into a narrow planter. Although I love a romantic summer container, I prefer to be a little edgier in autumn.

Blocking the design in chunks

I went for a moody blue sort of theme. The first thing that called to me were the sky blue pansies. They just remind me of a clear autumn day. I paired it with the Black Pearl peppers and purple cabbage. Now I needed a vertical element in the juncus and a little pop of color with the calibrachoa.

The nice part about this planter is that I can lift it out of the rack and slip it indoors when the temperatures get below freezing. The peppers aren't particularly cold hardy, but were too cool to pass up. At some point, they'll succumb, but by then it'll be time to think about swapping in winter greens and berries.

The Long Slow Spiral into Autumn

Rozanne geranium continues to bloom into October.

Autumn seems to hesitate on the skirts of summer. The days are getting ever so gradually shorter and I can feel the long slow tumbling spiral into winter. Mornings are softer and heavy with dew. This evening I was thrilled to see a flock of common nighthawks spinning together overhead, feasting on insects. They'll be starting their fall migration to South America soon. Autumn to me always feels circular as things slow down, leaves fall, and the soil begins to slumber. Perhaps it was too much W. B. Yeats at an early age, but I have always been attracted to spiral, labyrinths and the sinuous shapes of nature. The winding tendrils of clematis and morning glory, the Fibonacci sequence of sunflowers and echinacea pull me in.

This year the acorns on my Regal Prince oak are twice the size, which someone just told me meant we're in for a hard winter. Good, I think. After the 100 plus degrees of summer, I'm ready for some negative temps and blankets of snow. In the meantime, I'll be studying the seedpods and marveling at how the dance of nature survives even the extremes.

How to Kill a Tree 101: Construction Damage

Excuse me as I drag out my soapbox...

If there is one thing that really fries my bananas, it's construction damage and death to trees. I can live with people planting them in the wrong place, pruning them into meatballs, and spraying them with chemicals so they don't fruit. However, killing a tree with blatant ignorance just puts my knickers in a twist. Not only are you killing a mature, beautiful tree that offers many benefits, you incur thousands of dollars in expense to have it removed.

Example #1:

The two shingle oaks on the right will not be long for this world. Sure, it'll be a handful of years before they kick the bucket, but they will eventually succumb. Why? Oaks do NOT like their roots messed with, especially mature trees. This is a beautiful home. Yet, the construction crews have pounded the soil into concrete with heavy machinery, stacking of bricks and placing of dumpsters. It's hard to see, but the trees are already showing signs of stress and the drought isn't helping. In three or four years, these poor homeowners will have quite the bill from the tree removal company. In the meantime, I have to drive by this everyday and not start frothing at the mouth.

Example #2:

This just breaks my heart. This stately 100 plus year-old American elm managed to survive Dutch elm disease, storms and old age until these people added on to the house. This is around the corner from my parents' house. It has taken three years for this tree to die. I watched the construction from day one. No tree protection, no fencing, no mulch, nothing. Usually an elm is a pretty tough customer, but there's only so much abuse it can handle. It lost about a quarter to one-third of its root system, and again, the drought this year didn't help. Now, deader than a doornail. I don't even want to think about how much removal is going to run them since it is not easily accessible.

The lesson is this: if you value your trees and are building a house, putting on an addition or creating a patio or deck, please, please please put some thought into your mature trees. Tree roots extend one to two times outside the length of the dripline. The fine feeder roots necessary for food and water are in the top 12 to 18 inches of the soil. Fence off the root zones at least to the dripline. Mulch heavily those root protection zones and areas of vehicle traffic. Water during dry periods. Prune the crown to compensate for stress. Don't fertilize so it doesn't incur further stress. Be vilgilant with your contractors and crews. Work fines into the contract. Consider hiring a consulting arborist.

It's worth it to save a tree if only in the reduced air conditioning costs!