Reflections on Life, Death, and Renewal Pruning

The snowdrops are early this year.

This week I attended the wake of my brother-in-law's grandmother, who passed away at the advanced age of 99. It was one of the nicest wakes I've been to because her life was celebrated. Family and friends told stories and caught up with each other. It got me thinking.

As the snowdrops pop out of the ground with the recent warm weather I am reminded of resilience. Snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) manufacture their own antifreeze. We're due to get snow and below freezing temperatures, but they'll be just fine. Plants are tough buggers. They want to survive and many go to extraordinary lengths to do so. Remember that tree with a phone wire growing through it? We've all seen one.

Perhaps because we work with living things that gardeners may have a different perspective on death. We've all killed a plant, many times for no discernible reason. Many of us compost, seeing firsthand the wonder of dead plant material transform into nutrients for the living. Perhaps since we've had our share of loss, I see the ending of life as a natural state. We don't have children because after several miscarriages, we decided we had given it our best shot and stopped. I went on a lot of walks on my lunch hours during that time and I really began to stop and take notice. I really do smell the roses. And the witchhazel, sweet bay magnolia, violets and the bruised foliage of spicebush. Why? Because it's a feast for the senses. They are living, growing things of such beauty that by soaking it in, I, in turn am renewed.

Speaking of renewal, I am reminded of pruning, the art of cutting away. We often use two terms when we refer to pruning - rejuvenation and renewal. To rejuvenate a shrub you cut all of it back to within a few inches of the soil. Some plants thrive when you prune this way and others so resent it that they die. Renewal pruning is where you thin a plant by about a third, again cutting the branches at the base. This allows sprightly new growth, opens up the structure, and shapes the plant.

I could have come up with a list of resolutions for 2012. However, I think instead I will do a bit of renewal pruning. What kind of clutter can I cut away to open up my life and allow for new growth?  

New Eyes: Seeing the Landscape

I'm sorry. I've been down with the Evil Head Cold of Doom and so haven't had the brain power to string two sentences together until now. Pass me a hankie!

It's January in Chicagoland and this year we have not been graced with measurable snow. It looks a lot like this:

Pretty bleak, eh? Well, maybe. What catches my eye in winter is what is left when the ordinary greenery is stripped away. This is a typical intersection in my town. I was sitting at the stoplight and so had a chance to snap a quick picture. What leaps out at me this time of year are the grand old evergreens. Here we have Norway spruce, Austrian pine and white pine among others. Their quiet dark dignity really shows up this time of year. And that splash of deep red over on the left? That's a crabapple loaded with berries. Isn't it pretty?

This winter, take a few moments to stop and look around your landscape. What kinds of trees, shrubs, grasses, etc. stand out? Enjoy those big old evegreens now before they steal back into the background in spring.

Rosemary Redemption?

Here we go again...

I have wonderful friends. My friend Beth dropped off a Christmas tree shaped rosemary plant after reading the last post. Isn't she cool? Check out her blog: A Road to Faith.

So now I have this big beautiful rosemary.  I promised it that I would do my best to keep it alive and savor its loveliness in shepherd's pie, pot roast, stews, and soups. It's hanging in there. I'm not sure what sort of potting mix it's in, but the water runs straight through it. At some point in the next few days, I'm going to repot it in the potting soil we sell at work. It's lovely stuff with a wetting agent and we grow all our plants in it. Sadie the cat is intrigued by the rosemary, but has not nibbled too much. Will it survive the winter? We shall see.

I've Killed the Rosemary - AGAIN!

This happens every year. Whistling an optimistic tune, I pick up a rosemary plant or two from work and pot it up for the porch. We cook with it all summer, water it, make sure it's happy. Then comes fall. I tuck it closer to the house as frost threatens and it cheerfully puts out new growth. All is well, yes?  We love cooking with herbs, so the poor rosemary gets moved indoors as nights dip into the 30s. Wonderful! we think, it's stew season and rosemary is perfect! The poor bugger is doomed. Once the rosemary crosses the threshold it's days are numbered.

This year, though, I thought I could pull it off. We swapped bedrooms, so now the study is in the southeast corner and a nice sunny window is available for plants. Until the turtle came to stay for six weeks, that is. We enjoy babysitting the turtles, but one of them gets my sunny spot. The rosemary and it's basil pals were once again relegated to the back kitchen door/pantry.  They get plenty of sun there, but unfortunately, it's the back door. And as the main point of entry, it's drafty. All it took was one night when the chef left the door cracked as he was baking bread. We tried resuscitation, but, well, once again, I've killed the rosemary.

November Rain Can Be Beautiful

Curly willow in the rain

It's November in Chicagoland. The days are shorter, They're often grey with clouds, cold and just plain depressing. It has been excellent weather to hang out on the couch with a pot of tea, a book, and a cat. However, there's something magical about November rain. When the temperature is right - cold, but not freezing - rain seems to crystallize on branches. The drops remain suspended like a bead necklace. Evergreens are covered in a sheet of diamonds. So, even if the weather is crummy, Mother Nature still can be beautiful.

Autumn Gold

One of my favorite trees are ginkgos. I love their geisha-fan leaves, their upright stature, and their shimmering gold fall color. I am spoiled by having ginkgos generously planted in the parkways in my neighborhood. These tough, tolerant trees are perhaps at their best in fall. Those golden leaves will linger on the tree until a deep frost. Overnight, the tree drops almost all to form a liquid yellow carpet at its feet. It reminds me of an elegant lady stepping out of her party dress.

Roses are Good for You

Rosa glauca or red-leaved rose hips.

As they mature and darken they look like Milk Duds.

Roses. The classic flower, the pinnacle of elegance, the expression of love. We fuss over them, nurture them, and sometimes kill them.

I've talked to many people who feel that roses are impossible to grow and that they are one of the delicate darlings of the plant world. I beg to differ.  Of course, you have the prima donna - the tea rose. Yes, tea roses can be a major hassle.  There are clubs and societies to help you with that addiction.

The roses that live in my yard need to be tough buggers. I yanked out the tea roses that came with the house years ago in favor of low maintenance, easy going shrub roses. I have a love affair with my New Dawn climbers and Stanwell Perpetual shrubs. My Nearly Wild is toughing it out despite the bunnies and occasional Japanese beetle. My Sea Foam is thriving and grew, er, six FEET despite being cut back to six inches this spring. My cute little white Meidiland and dark pink Hansa rugosa are getting established. Have I killed roses? You betcha. Par for the course. I keep planting them anyway.

Now that November has descended in all its grey misery, one thing lighting up my life are rose hips. I don't generally dead head mine. They don't need it, and I like having happy little rose hips for winter interest. Eventually the wildlife will eat them, so everyone wins! You can even make a refreshing tea with them if you are so inclined. Rugosa roses are a favorite for their large hips, but pretty much any of the varieties will work. Not every rose will form hips, but many of them do. You do have to let the flowers fade and the ovaries mature, so back off with the pruners. Try a rose! You just might like it.