April Antics

It’s been quite a week! It started pleasantly enough. Perhaps a few degrees above normal (which is what these days?!) but so comfortable to get things done. Then, the temperatures spiked – we had a heatwave! Almost 90 degrees for three days! With it already being so dry, the heat caused serious concern. Suddenly, watering the vulnerable plants was high priority. Spring plants that had begun blooming began to wilt. It broke my heart to see many of the daffodils so short-lived. Hardly seemed fair. The apple blossoms caught up with the pears and that is an unusual sight. I’m uncertain what that means regarding pollination and fruit formation but nevertheless it’s a pretty sight. And the tulips coming along nicely were jolted into bloom before they’d reached full height. All shorties in flower presently.

In the meadow, the fritillaria have also begun flowering. While they look good, they’re out of sync with the sedge that should be complementing the bobbing snakeheads with their sap green spikes of new growth. The sedge are not quite ready, As a designer and artist, I’m frustrated and disappointed. As a gardener, I’m gravely worried. But, there’s nothing immediate to be done about the current weather pattern so I’m here for the seasons beauty such as it is.

By weeks end, it had mercifully cooled off so the heavy work of emptying the greenhouse of all the winter residents could be accomplished. This task is truly physical – moving the big pots to their various outdoor locations is no picnic.

Each pot also gets a thorough tidying up. A proper trimming, removal of dead growth and any other necessary sprucing. Once every pot is installed in its spot for the season, they’re all given a good dose of organic feed. Helps them get on with the business of growing and flowering and/or fruiting.

It was a long, busy, tiring but very satisfying day. And then it rained at night. Hallelujah.

The very recently emptied greenhouse was cleaned of all winter detritus and is now housing several pots of dahlia tubers being pampered awake in rather cozy quarters. The top layer of the pots have been sown with seeds for micro-greens. I figure we can enjoy the nutritious leaves of peas, beets and broccoli in spring salads until the dahlia growth emerges through and takes over.

I still have other seeds like quince, cardinal vine and nasturtiums to start. The quince will be interesting as I’ve never started those before – they were a gift with an impressive provenance. The seeds are from quince that grows at the Metropolitan Museum’s Cloisters. I feel the pressure! The quince growing in my garden was obtained as a young plant from Hortus Gardens. I think I’ll ask them for advice.

This past week, I had the privilege of previewing the much awaited and immensely popular Lyndhurst Flower Show. It was wonderful. Each of the rooms were decorated by different floral artists resulting in a diverse array of creative, sumptuous, inspired displays. I loved it all. Three in particular stood out for me.

First, was the dining room flooded by the paper creations of lotuses by artist Sourabh Gupta and his team that took my breath away. So very original and beautiful. Do look up his work @sourabh_gupta

The there was the kitchen below – opulently festooned with flowers in bright citrus hues matched with similarly colored vegetables and fruits awaiting the deft hands of the cooks to create meals for the family upstairs, the room was just lovely.

Next door, was the servants dining room and it was adorned with a more simple, organic, free-form arrangement reflecting the humble nature of the space it occupied.

I really appreciated how the arrangements in both rooms were so marvelously interpreted by the individual artists. They spoke volumes.

The flower show was sold out for both days of its tenure. It gives me so much pleasure to imagine the many people who were cheered, awed and inspired by it.

All in all, it was indeed quite a week.

Note: Don’t forget to get tickets for my garden’s Open Day on May 20.

Some images from the Lyndhurst Flower Show and some from my garden right now –

The Dining Room-

The Servant’s Dining Room And the Kitchen –

A couple of other rooms –

In my garden –

(c) 2023 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Call To Action

Snowdrops are up in the meadow. It is undoubtedly a joyous sight but, this year, it comes with a sense of unease. It is way too early to see them in my garden. About month early at best. What’s next?

With a mostly mild winter and no snow at all thus far, it looks ominous. I’d like to think there’s still time for winter to pick up its pace and sock us with polar vortices, blizzards and tundra like conditions but I’m also nervous that such extreme weather this late in the season could put paid to many plants and creatures already awakened.

This past weekend, the grapevine got pruned – a task that typically gets done further along in winter. With day time temperatures spiking consistently to the low-50’s, it seemed prudent to get the job done before any new growth could be detected. It’s quite disconcerting and I feel like I’m flying blind in figuring out the best way to address this abnormal weather pattern.

I’m not one to panic easily but in all honestly, I’m seriously worried. We are at an inflection point in the climate crisis. That change is happening is obvious but how much and what kind of change are the big questions. And what can we do about it? For now, there are no easy answers. However, it sure is time for each gardener and/or property owner to step up their roles as stewards of the land. Whatever we’re doing for the cause, lets do better. Much better.

It’s true, every single person is required to take action to mitigate climate change but I genuinely believe that gardeners are the first responders in this crisis. While governments, corporations and industry make new policies and implement and enforce better regulations, we gardeners ( farmers too) already have our boots on the ground. We see the what is going on in real time. Our actions matter.

So, I’m putting a call out for us all to review our current practices and resolve to do much more.

To get you started, here are a few things to consider –

1. Water. Reduce consumption, Redirect soap-free gray water, collect rain water, reuse cooking water (from boiling things like eggs, pasta, veggies) to water the garden. Choose less thirsty plants from now on. Remove the greediest ones.

2. Go entirely organic. Start composting and use the compost instead of chemical fertilizers and non-degradable mulch.

3. Go mostly native – the plants are less fussy, are hardy and resilient. Non-native selection should be non-invasive and ecologically supportive. 70% native plants to 30% non-native is a decent balance. But, make the extra effort to up the natives. Go on. You can do it.

4. Reduce lawn space. What lawn is there, set the mower at a height of at least 4 inches. Leave clippings to decay and enrich the soil.

5. Plant native trees. Choose an American oak if location and space permit. Amelanchier (shad blow) are great four season trees for small gardens.

6. Reduce plastic usage. Purchase bare-root plants or those in easily biodegradable pots. Urge your nurseries to stock up accordingly. I wish growers would take back plastic pots to reuse.

7. On the subject of nurseries – go local. Avoid big box stores. Support small, family owned businesses. Remember, regional farms grow plants best suited for your climate. Keep the carbon footprint down and raise the local economy. Everybody and the climate wins.

This is a broad list for all gardeners. There is plenty more depending on ones own location and circumstance. Lets get to it. There is absolutely no time to waste.

Meanwhile, I’m going to accept the weather such as it is. I intend to make the most of it by spending more time outdoors, basking in the sunshine, listening to birdsong and observe the unfolding of the season. While I cannot ignore the pit in my stomach, I must be intentional in how I choose to spend my days and be fully present for them. The snowdrops are here, one must indeed enjoy them.

Compare and Contrast –
Top – February 2022
Bottom – February 2023

Grapevine all pruned and tidy

Snowdrops

Crocus pushing through

Columbine

Climbing hydrangea in bud

Hellebore

Emerging herbaceous peony

(c) 2023 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Parched Earth

This past Saturday it rained. Not for long but, the garden plants got a decent watering. The relief I felt was disproportionately huge. It’s been a very dry summer. The rain barrel has been low for a while and but for the fact that the condensation from the central air-conditioning unit is directed to the barrel, it would’ve been bone dry some weeks ago. Saturday’s rain did not fill the barrel. But I’m grateful for every drop of water.

Yesterday, we finally got a true ‘rainy day’. Thunder and lightening too. Torrents so powerful that there was flooding of roads and basements. The problem with this kind of rain is that the earth cannot soak up the rain in a hurry so there’s a lot of run off water. Still, it quenched the thirsty plants.

And now, for the foreseeable future, we are in a heat wave. No rain but plenty of heat and humidity. Ugh. I shudder to think of all the unhealthy conditions for the flora and fauna. All life.

While the unprecedented heat followed by the fierce monsoons in Asia have wrought some devastation there, the lack of rain and soaring temperatures are doing much damage in other parts of the globe. It’s getting hotter everywhere. That, combined with severe lack of water, is going to see the biggest human migration to date. And this could begin in our lifetime.

I don’t know about you but I worry a great deal about this. In this country alone we are experiencing the horrific effects of climate change. Wild fires, large bodies of water drying up, power cuts, water rationing, loss of homes, crops and related livelihoods – the writing on the wall is clear. The science is evident. What are we going to do about it?

For a start, it would help enormously if our representatives in government could accept that we’re in a climate crisis and accordingly make and institute policies to help mitigate the threat. Concurrently, we citizens must do our part. Conserve, reduce, reuse, recycle water, energy and other resources.

In the garden –

Re-examine how and what we grow. Native plants are less demanding and more resilient.

Eliminate or drastically reduce water and energy guzzling lawns.

Collect rain water, gray water for the garden. I recently learned that in some parts of the country, it is illegal to have rain barrels – WHAT??? If they’re worried about a rise in mosquito populations, there are simple, safe ‘dunks’ available to stop them from breeding.

Water from boiling eggs, pasta and such can either be poured right away to kill weeds emerging between pavers on pathways or cooled and used to water plants.

And please, can we agree that timed watering systems MUST have a moisture/rain detection monitor attached so no automatic watering happens when its raining or the ground/pots are wet? Reduce the frequency of watering too. With the right plants, there will less demand for water.

If plants struggle and require too much care, get rid of them. I feel your pain but it is what we must do to keep our place on earth.

Finally, vote out the politicians who do not support the environment or believe in climate change and replace them with green-thinking, progressive minded candidates.

These asks are not as difficult as they seem. Lets begin right away. There is literally no time to lose.

Note: To counter the stress of worrying about the world, I’m sharing photos from my visit to Hollister House last. Sunday. A gem of a garden. Do visit!

Exposing True Colors

My Digging Deeper event ‘Wilding Walls And Fruiting Fences’ took place last Sunday. The weather cooperated beautifully and I was more than ready to welcome the folk who’d signed up. That they were willing to spend their Sunday morning in my garden felt very special. I was in my happy place – a chance to be with gardeners/garden lovers exchanging garden ideas, information and experiences is my favorite pastime. I was not disappointed – this was a wonderful group of friendly, curious and intelligent individuals. Such a pleasure.

I’m used to sharing my garden with the public through the Garden Conservancy’s Open Days Program – which is normally in May. Mid-Spring is when it looks most beautiful. And winter weary visitors are particularly complimentary on seeing plants fresh in their new growth, flaunting bright colors.

Late summer however, is not when my garden is at its best. Typically, there is a certain fatigue that sets in as summer is drawing to an end and fall isn’t quite ready to take over. Additionally, I’m most often away on vacation at this time so, the garden has that neglected appearance that makes any self-respecting gardener cringe. This year, while I am very much present, the weather was seriously disagreeable that things did not look much improved. As such, how the garden appeals is pretty much up to the beholder.

In front, the beds that look fetching in a parade of bulbs and early perennials through spring, become boisterous as summer perennials take over. Likewise, the meadow moves from a space of happy bulbs frolicking around to a space thick in all manner of native plants jockeying for space and attention. To those who are accustomed to a garden being well contained and tidy, this can come as bit of a shock. If one spends a little time in the garden however, they’d become aware of the life that this garden supports. Birds, butterflies, bees and all manner of other insects abound. This is exactly what I intended for my piece of paradise.

To please a traditionalist, short of giving my garden complete re-constructive surgery, there isn’t much I can do. Not that I really expect to please everyone at any time.

The garden had taken a beating this year because we’ve had really bad weather. First a spring that was mostly too cold and dry and then a very hot and wet summer. Extremely challenging. Plants struggled, many bloomed but the flowers could barely last. Things were early or late but not particularly on time. Some plants simply gave up trying.

A visitor was going to witness a rather wild looking, not so conventional garden. I know it is not everybody’s cup of tea. As I prepared for the big day doing the usual weeding and tidying up, I was acutely conscious of all that was not right. The flaws glared at me. In addition, certain matters that I kept meaning to address but did not because I am freshly returned from a trip and short on time, were now plainly obvious to me. Why hadn’t I taken care of trimming my side of the neighbors hedge? And what about those annuals I intended to plant to ignite the color palette in the beds and meadow? Why did I let the thuggish (but loved) members to spread unchecked? Honestly, all I could see was everything that was not right.

On behalf of my garden, I felt very vulnerable and exposed.

On the morning of my Digging Deeper, I had my fingers crossed for kind, understanding eyes to be cast on the garden. I needn’t have worried. The visitors were ever so generous in their observations. They noticed the flowers and many features and commented enthusiastically. On spying hummingbirds, there were such expressions of joy. And when it came to the focus of the event, I had a rapt audience eager to understand the art and science of espalier and vertical gardening.

Suddenly, I was seeing my garden through their eyes. They appreciated the variety of native flowers in bloom – not splashy but nevertheless pretty. A couple of people had seen my garden in spring on past Open Days. They too were taken by the summer display – something that I feared was less than best. I realized then, they were gardeners – they understood the vagaries of the weather, the vanity of the gardener and the wonder contained in all gardens.

By letting others tour my garden in all its authentic reality, without any pretension, I had freed myself to share my own experiences and knowledge in exactly the same way. In turn, I gained a new found appreciation of my humble garden and the people who choose to visit it.

Here are some images from my Digging Deeper morning –

(c) 2021 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Climate Control

What a weekend it was! Hurricane Henri had a good portion of the Northeast in a heightened state of alert. A fair bit inland, my corner was told to expect a tropical storm. High winds and heavy rains. So, we got down to getting necessary garden chores done. Tethering some pots, laying others down on their sides, harvesting ripened grapes so they couldn’t be tossed off in the wind, bringing in certain things that had no business sitting outside in a storm, hanging pots set on the ground, you get the idea.

Needless to say, the scheduled Digging Deeper event for Sunday was canceled. That was so disappointing as I’d been looking forward to having fellow gardeners to share, commiserate and exchange stories and lessons.

As it turned out, we got lucky. Henri was down graded to a tropical storm and our area missed the predicted winds. It did rain though – all of Sunday and well into Monday. But not quite as fierce as feared. I’m truly grateful. It is now time to shift focus on more usual matters in the garden.

I’ve been taking note of plants that did well this year and those that have not. The weather this year has been so erratic and uncharacteristic that it is not really a matter of selecting or rejecting any specific plants but more about simply observing. This is the sort of information that is useful as one plans ahead. The climate is changing and so must our gardens. Certain plants that rely on colder winters will not do well as my planting zone moves slowly into a warmer one. On the other hand, plants that I’ve coveted over the years but could not survive harsh winters might now take up residence in my garden. It is a very bittersweet reality.

Last week, I learned that our fall this year will be warmer and temperatures will not drop significantly till the end of November. Hmmm. Does this mean that planting spring bulbs should not happen on time? Typically, I plant bulbs at the very end of October into early November. Will the bulb houses know to ship them out accordingly? How much later will be ideal? Nearer Thanksgiving? A more definitive directive is required as I need to plan accordingly! Bulbs are a huge investment for me and I cannot afford to risk any loss. They are such a favorite that without them, I cannot imagine spring. Here’s hoping it all gets sorted out and the situation is not as dire as indicated. As a gardener, optimism is a mainstay.

A few weeks ago, I placed my bulb order. I was a bit later than usual. Just by a couple of weeks. And yet, a couple of choices were sold out. I urge all fellow bulb maniacs to get their orders done ASAP.

Keeping in mind the way the weather directed the time line of the bulb show this year, I tweaked my list with a few more late season bloomers. I also added more of the stalwarts like hyacinthoides, camassia and select alliums. For a little indulgence, I splurged ( just a bit) on the more expensive Frittilaria – imperialis and persica. They are really pricey so I ordered only a few. When I win the lottery, you can bet I will go crazy. Finally, to kick things up in early spring, I ordered a batch of a new-to-me crocus – C olivieri ‘Orange Monarch’ and yes, it is a golden orange with garnet-merlot striations. That should really punch up the usual purple, white and yellow mix. Most folk will not see this particular show. But I will and that’s what matters. Because in the end, I garden for me.

Note: Since it’s not bulb season and we’re only dreaming/planning for it, I’m sharing a few watercolor images of them.

(c) 2021 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Complaint Box

It feels as though I haven’t as yet got into a summer state of living. Admittedly, my trip to Mumbai swallowed up a few weeks of the season but, that shouldn’t get in the way of feeling it. I put the blame squarely on the weather. It has been way too hot and oppressive to enjoy the days as we’d like. I measure my level of participation by the amount of time I spend in the garden – eagerly and with pleasure.

Typically for me, summer days in the garden are best savored in the early hours of the morning and late afternoon into the evening. High temperatures and humidity do me in so, I avoid those mid-day hours. This year, it’s been unprecedentedly hot and muggy even in those ‘bookend’ hours. I have found it really difficult to work in the garden. As for lingering and simply reveling in the garden goings on, it’s been unbearable. In addition, the biting bugs are in abundance and attack immediately. Using repellents when the skin is already sweaty and hot is not at all pleasant. As a result, time in the garden has been reduced to the bare minimum – just enough to get routine chores done. I deeply miss being able to live in the garden. From dawn to dusk.

Returning home after time away has presented an abundance of work. The garden had run amok. And it has been really challenging to bring back some order. As I’d mentioned last week, I have a deadline. The Digging Deeper event is this coming Sunday and like every self-respecting gardener, I want my garden to look its seasonal best. Last week’s heat put paid to any garden work. Working in temperatures in the high 90s but felt like the 100s would’ve been downright dangerous. So I took care of myriad indoor tasks. The weekend ended up being a marathon of chores. The family rallied like champions. Much got done. Pruning, trimming, weeding, editing, clearing, thinning – it felt endless. Yet, much remains and the clock is ticking as once again, the weather is going to get unpleasant.

In the end, after our best efforts, matters will be what they’ll be. And all who attend on Sunday will surely understand because they are all gardeners. I fully expect all to empathize and eagerly anticipate some commiseration on how this summer has been less than ideal. Misery loves company after all.

Note; With a view to Digging Deeper, I’m sharing images of the espalier fence and the vertical garden. Sign up if you want to learn how to add these features to your own gardens!

(c) 2021 Shobha Vanchiswar

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FOMO In The Garden

FOMO – Fear Of Missing Out

I really appreciate that our very human anxiety about feeling left out or missing out on something has been recognized and owned. As social animals, we need to be included and informed on all the goings on. Every one of us can recognize that FOMO feeling – we’ve not only been there but we continue to go there. It simply cannot be helped. Which is why we say ‘yes’ so often. And why we bring upon ourselves a state of business that more often than not, provides no satisfaction.

I’m currently going through a different sort of FOMO. It’s a deep seated resentment of missing out on the happenings in the garden. Due to the days of intense heat alternating with long bouts of rain, I’ve had very little opportunity to hang out in the garden. The humidity in particular really does me in. Snatching windows of tolerable conditions to get basic chores done is about all I’ve managed. There has been no real chance to enjoy what’s in bloom (or not), observe wild life and just linger in the life affirming atmosphere of the garden.

These conditions invariably makes me a grump. The sense of not being there to note the myriad events in my garden is unsettling to say the least. What’s the point of planning, planting and working in the garden if I’m not there to savor the fruits (no pun intended) of my labor?

Instead, on my rushed forays, I spy poppy petals scattered around but not a single flower in sight. Missed those blooms. I dutifully refill the hummingbird feeders but do not get to watch any of the thirsty drinkers. I know the cicadas have emerged, mated, laid eggs, eggs have hatched and nymphs have molted only because I spot the exuviae, their transparent exoskeletons still clinging on to tree trunks. How I’d have loved to monitor those stages! Soggy roses browning on the limbs tell me I missed their beauty and fragrance. And so it goes …. on and on.

A similar FOMO is experienced when I must go away for any reason. I might be super-excited to travel to beloved places and yet, I’m loathe to leave my garden. I know what I’m going to be missing and that makes me sad. In the big picture, none of this is a huge deal. I know that. But I’m here owning my own FOMO. It’s real and not to be ignored. There, I’ve said it. Anyone else coming forward?

Note: I’m sharing some of my recent black and white paintings. They were after all inspired by the garden

Gardenia

Tree Peony

Clematis

Columbine

Magnolia Grandifolia

Parrot tulip

Iris

(c) 2021 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Snow Show

The Northeast is smack dab in the midst of a big blizzard. After last year’s mild winter with hardly any snow, it feels strange to be anticipating 20 inches of it. The gusts of wind turns the falling snow into a spectacle of whirling dervishes. Pretty awesome.

From the warmth and security of the indoors, I’m enjoying this performance art that Nature is executing so expertly. How grateful I am not to have anyplace to get to. In this whiteout situation the only thing to do is to call it a ‘snow day’ and make the most of it. With WFH in place, it might feel as though it is business as usual but I’m determined not to let it be so. It would be a shame to waste the opportunity to make hot chocolate, change ones office location to a cozy spot by a roaring fire and get outside to tramp around in the snow. After hours of screen time, the bracing effect of standing in the falling snow even for a few minutes is stimulating. Chances are, one will want to play – snowball fights, making snow-angels or snow-person building contest anyone?

As I watch the beautiful winter scene outside, I’m reassured that the dormant plants are safely insulated under the thick blanket of snow. I like to imagine that the seeds of wildflowers scattered by the wind and critters last fall will rest comfortably until the snow-melt gently coaxes their parched coats awake. Already, I can envision the meadow come alive with many more flowers this spring.

Watching the trees sway and shake in the fierce wind is a tad unsettling. Much damage is possible if one falls. Fingers crossed the trees are all healthy and firmly rooted. In the spring I’ll be sure to find interesting branches sprinkled around the floor of the woods. They will make good stakes and tepees for gangly plants in need of support. This year, I’m going to earmark a couple of good ones to use in outdoor decorating projects. Ostensibly we are all still going to only gather outdoors through the better part of this year. So, why not plan to make the terrace more festive?

The plants in the greenhouse are safe thus far but I’m constantly worrying about their heat supply. What if the propane tanks get depleted more quickly? Or, what if there is a technical glitch that fails to inform that the temperature in the greenhouse has dropped too low? Having a greenhouse can be both a blessing and a curse. Still, I’m very grateful for my tiny extravagance. Okay, okay, it’s a folly of sorts.

I make a note to myself to remove most of the snow around the fruit trees after the storm. A few winters ago, rodents made themselves cozy under the snow and had a good feast on the cambium at the base of some trees leaving a few of them completely girdled. It was heartbreaking to lose them. Replacing trees within a mature Belgian espalier is not easy or inexpensive. I’m forever determined to thwart those tree murderers. If I could, I’d banish them for all eternity but living in the ‘country’ makes that pretty much impossible.

Something to bear in mind – observe how the snow melts in the garden. As the garden resurfaces, it’ll become clear which parts are more sunny or sheltered. It isn’t always as obvious as one might think. Often, we fail to notice changes as trees grow or die or, new constructions come up. But, noting the speed with which snow disappears in certain locations and lingers on in others, tells you the different micro-climates within the garden. This information is very useful when choosing plants and designing beds.

In my garden, there are patches a mere two feet apart where the snow responds to the warming temperatures very differently.

I love the way snow silently traces over the elements and features in the garden. Almost like black and white pictures, they render the designs prettily. Any gap or lack of interest shows up clearly as though pointing out where one needs to remedy or improve the composition.

Snow brings out such emotions in us. We are awed, pleased, challenged, irritated and sometimes even devastated. But perhaps, the best effect it has is to bring out our inner child. So, before we clear the snow off our lovely, longish slope of a driveway, I simply must pull on a snowsuit and get in some sledding fun. Otherwise, what would’ve been the point of all that powder?

In the beginning-

After some hours –

Beauty indoors too!

(c) 2021 Shobha Vanchiswar

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Rain, Snow, Sunshine And Storm

We saw it all this past week. Bizarre, beautiful and bewildering weather. It was as though we were witness to a highly compressed video of the four seasons. What gives? As if the pandemic was not enough. I did a great deal of worrying all week.

The rain itself was not a problem but then, it got windy. Really windy. Tipped over pots that had never been affected before. With the soil getting so saturated with water, I fretted over seedlings in the vegetable patch getting wobbly and possibly drowning. Thankfully that did not happen but a few new worry lines have shown up on my face.

Then, we had a couple of dry days with strong wind. And sunshine. Well, that completely dried up the soil in no time so we had to water everything. Crazy no?

On one day it was almost perfect. Sunny, pleasant and totally misleading. That night, temperatures plummeted. We were back in winter and scrambled to bring some tender plants back into the greenhouse they’d vacated just last weekend. The smaller pots were all we could shelter. The big ones were too heavy to move in a hurry.

The next day it remained super cold. And poured rain for hours. At night, it snowed. Not much but enough to coat the cars. Thankfully, the snow melted as the sun rose but the temperature was still twenty degrees below normal. Go figure.

Later that same day, we experienced two squalls. Two. Snow gusted and swirled. It got dark. About twenty minutes later, all was calm and bright. The sun shone as though nothing untoward had occurred.

All this took place in a span of six days! On Sunday, we were finally blessed with a beautiful day. The pots of plants taking refuge in the greenhouse found their posts in the garden and we tethered and propped everything that had been pushed around by the wind. Not going to take chances anymore – this could be an ongoing trend in the weather. Who knows.

Making good use of the reprieve in the weather, much weeding was done. It is impressive how hardy weeds can be. Two roses were dug up and relocated. These roses were the offspring of a rose given to me by a friend. It reproduced all by itself i.e. with no help from me. I’m guessing that’s why the friend was giving away that rose rather generously. When I first saw the progeny coming up near the parent, I was delighted. But they grew fast and encroached other plants aggressively. They had to be moved. I’m going to keep a sharp eye on these roses – no more surprise babies.

Speaking of babies, my biggest source of stress during what was a trying week in the garden, was the nest of three robin babies in the wall pot by the front door. I’ve been keeping an eye on them throughout and posting photos here and on my Instagram account (@seedsofdesignllc and @shobhavanchiswar). Watching the parents care for their little ones who are growing fast has been so enjoyable. But with temperatures dropping so low, winds picking up and, snow coming down, I was totally afraid for the safety of the baby robins. Would the parents be able to keep them warm and dry when they themselves were cold? I was consumed with concern.

I expressed a desire to set up a heater in the front porch but that got shot down by the family. Mostly because we do not even have an outdoor heater. However, I didn’t much care for the lecture on how this is nature at work and I cannot go around playing God. Who says?

Of course, I know how Nature operates and the circle of life yada, yada. I worry about my garden plants and critters anyway. They are each in my care after all. But, at this particular time when we know so little about the powerful virus and are trying so hard to stay well and positive, the fact that we actually have very little control is not lost on me. Hence, tending the garden is a way of staying creative, productive, active and optimistic. Any threat to this source of therapy is distressing. All and any support and kindness from the weather-gods would be much appreciated. Is that too much to ask?

As I went about grumbling about such matters yesterday, I was also dealing with the small odd jobs in the garden. In the process, I started to relax. The sheer beauty of the flowers in bloom, the melody of bird song and the energy of life all around was having their unfailing impact on my entire being. I was now paying attention to what the garden was saying to me. The baby birds had pulled through the cold nights, the veggie plot was looking just fine, plants deemed tender had survived nicely – they had all weathered the storm so to speak. Not because of my worrying and stressing but because they applied their deep seated natural instincts. The plants bent and swayed and let the wind flow through, the robin parents instinctively did what they could to keep their young ones warm. They were all doing whatever they were capable of doing. Sure there was no guarantee of survival but each living thing was using its inherent capacities to that end. We rise above and despite the fear. That is all we can do.

Apple blossom

wall garden waking up

Alliums getting ready …

White forget-me-nots have joined the blue!

Bleeding hearts

In the ‘meadow’

Robin babies

(c) 2020 Shobha Vanchiswar

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February Feelings

Where did January go? Wasn’t it just yesterday when we welcomed in 2020? But here we are in February, just past the mid-point of winter. And yesterday, the New York metropolitan area enjoyed a spring-ish (yes, spring) day. Which, while out of place for this month, put me in a mind to start thinking about spring. That’s a mere six weeks away!

There are plans to make, tasks to schedule and things to get ready. Click here for a list of February chores. It’s a good comprehensive register and will get you on the right track.

Last Sunday, the grape vine was pruned. Typically, that chore is done later in the month but, given the atypically mild winter we’ve had thus far, it seemed prudent to do it ahead of time.

A friend is starting some seeds for me and I’m ever so grateful. My greenhouse is so crammed with overwintering plants that there’s no room for seed flats. Besides, my travel/work schedule is a bit more hectic this season so it is particularly nice to have one less thing to do.

Much to my family’s relief, the hyacinths I had cooling in the refrigerator ( taking up prime real estate) are slowly coming out for forcing. Observing the daily progress of these bulbs sustains me enormously. It’s funny how something as simple as that can have such a profoundly uplifting effect on the mood.

The charming pots of primroses at my area Whole Foods proved irresistible. I now have five of them in different crayon-box colors cheering up the kitchen.

Both, hyacinth bulbs and primroses will find a home in the garden once they’ve finished blooming.

In the garden, February can be an austere month. But really, it is a month of promise of the beauty and bounty to come. It provides that quiet window before spring bursts forth rambunctiously and all hands must be on deck to cope with the myriad garden chores.

February is that plain looking gift that waits patiently for its value to be discovered.

Grapevine -Before the pruning

(c) 2020 Shobha Vanchiswar

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