Documenting the Global Warming Apocalypse

Here are all the things that are up in my garden, which really shouldn't be.

Bleeding Hearts, Already in Bloom

Lungwort, Also Blooming

Daffodils

The Scylla is Actually Past its Prime Already

Hyacinths

Frittilaria, Not Blooming, but Quite Tall

Ligularia and Hosta, Already Up

Brunnera, Fully Blooming

One About-To-Bloom Primrose

Ditto for this Tulip

This is just an insane state of affairs for March 25.  Our last frost date is around May 9, so there's a good chance that this stuff will all get zapped by one chilly night.

Spring Comes in March

We had a gorgeous, spring-like day where everyone was out and about, absorbing the sun...and it's only March 11.  In the garden I've got loads of blooming snowdrops, and even a few crocuses.

My husband says it's just an anomalous year, and not necessarily a sign of apocalyptic climate change (not that he's a climate-change denier, just that small individual events don't mean that much in the grand global scheme of things), so I'm going to keep close track of dates when things happen over the next few years and see if there are any useful patterns.  I did check a few gardening fora and it doesn't seem to be out of the question for crocuses to appear in mid March.  I still find it disturbing though that we never had sustained snow cover this year, and temperatures are predicted to be in the high 70s next week.  More importantly, lack of snowpack is a huge problem for western water supplies year round.

Finally, a Bit of Winter

At last, it snowed!  How lovely is that?

Plus, it almost disguises all the shit I left undone last fall.

Putting the garden to bed is such a misnomer--it makes it sound peaceful and sleepy, with connotations of warm milk and Dr. Seuss.  For me, it's a traumatic event that forces me to confront all my failures as a gardener.  I'll do anything to avoid that, and, fortunately, I have lots of excuses in the fall to help me avoid cleaning up the yard.

Seriously? This is What February in Wisconsin Looks Like Now?

I took these photos on the 16th.  Snowdrops are definitely an early spring bulb, but this seems a bit crazy, and I've also got daffodil shoots.  I suppose it's possible that snowdrops always pop up this early but are harder to see underneath a foot or two of snow, but that also suggests that there is some sort of issue with our climate.  We've had no real sustained snow cover this year at all; they had to truck in snow for our annual winter festival this weekend.

What the Hell Happened to Our Hardiness Zones?

The Minneapolis Star Tribune published this report from the AP on revised USDA hardiness zones, highlighting the fact that you can now apparently grow figs in Boston.  Interestingly, the report I heard on my local NPR station this morning claimed that there wasn't enough data to attribute the changes to global warming, which is, apparently, the line the USDA is taking as well.  This article clearly attributes the change to global warming:

"The 1990 map was based on temperatures from 1974 to 1986, the new map from 1976 to 2005. The nation's average temperature from 1976 to 2005 was two-thirds of a degree higher than it was during the old time period, according to the National Climatic Data Center.

USDA spokeswoman Kim Kaplan, who was part of the map team, repeatedly tried to distance the new zones on the map from global warming. She said that while much of the country is in warmer zones, the map "is simply not a good instrument" to demonstrate climate change because it is based on just the coldest days of the year.

David W. Wolfe, a professor of plant and soil ecology at Cornell University, said that the USDA is being too cautious and that the map plainly reflects warming."

I suppose the USDA is trying to stay out of politics, but it seems a bit disingenuous to me.  Here's the new, interactive map.  It looks like I'm still 5a, so no figs for me--at least, not yet.  Ten, twenty years from now--who knows?

Experiments in Online Plant Shopping

Earlier this week I had a long chat with a friend about buying plants--she just moved into a new house and will be starting to put her stamp on the yard in the spring, hopefully with lots of berry bushes.  She had been seduced by the ridiculously low prices at the Michigan Bulb Company, but I sent her to Dave's Garden, a fabulous resource for all kinds of gardening information (though I do wish they were more consistent with their apostrophes).  The Garden Watchdog is not kind to the Michigan Bulb Company (located-- who knew?--in Indiana). 

In spite of all the warnings, my friend is still tempted by the insane prices, and now I'm sort of tempted too.  I'm going to do an experiment and order the same 10 items from the Michigan Bulb Company and a company with a better reputation, and see what happens.  

The best place to buy plants, however, is nearly always a local garden center, staffed by people who garden in your area and really understand what works where you live.  I often regret the "deals" I get at Home Despot, because the plants are grown quickly far south of where I live and are not really well adapted to Wisconsin winters, no matter what their supposed zone tolerance is.

Why Don't I Have One of These?

We stopped in Deforest for a post-ski lunch and saw this masterpiece across the way at a cheese and tchotchkes store--I'm not sure I can live without an RV-sized cow in the front yard for much longer (and, fortuitously, my fortieth birthday is a mere 32 months away!).  On the side of a frontage road off a major highway this fiberglass object d'art is pretty impressive, but it would pack a much larger punch in my little residential neighborhood.  I really think I must have it.

More Garden Envy with Bonus Potting Soil Update

My brother-in-law in Ahmednagar, India used loads of potted plants to create a sort of a screen on his veranda--I love how it looks, and I want to do the same thing outside of my screened porch this summer.  I'm going to put up a bunch of hooks and plant lots of trailing vines and flowers to make it feel open but like we're surrounded with green, and also give us a bit more privacy.  I'm also wondering if I can channel the 70s and learn how to macrame hanging pot holders for my regular indoor plants, so I don't have to buy too many annuals.

As a side note, all of these pots, which seems to be growing beautifully, are planted with regular garden soil, not potting soil.

Blog Update

Blogging stalled out completely during the end of semester crush of grading that always happens.  Then there was all the Christmas shit that has to be dealt with, and the day after Christmas I got on a plane and came to India.  Blogging will recommence when I get back in a few days and recover from the jet lag, I swear!  I've got some awesome pictures of gardens in India that I can't wait to write about.

What the Hell Happened to My Basil?

One member of my household, who shall remain nameless, is a pesto nazi--nothing but fresh and homemade will do, and if we don't have it at least three times a month he feels hideously neglected.  In the winter, our basil bills add up, so I came up with the brilliant plan of getting a light shelf and keeping my plants going indoors.  From a distance it looks maybe ok, but up close you can see it's a total disaster.

In an effort to maximize my success, I brought one healthy (or seemingly healthy) plant indoors in early fall, took cuttings from two other healthy-seeming plants, and sowed some seeds.

I'm getting nowhere.  It's partly my fault.  My seeds sprouted, but I got busy at work and they dried up, no doubt screaming in pain.  My cuttings are just languishing, and my formerly healthy plant is has about three green leaves at any given time.

I think it may have something to do with the temperature indoors, which peaks at 67, and goes down to 57 at night.  I put a heat mat under my plants but I don't think it provides enough warmth.  I may have to try putting some plastic around my shelves, to try to create a slightly warmer microclimate that suits basil a bit better.

Garden Envy

We went to visit friends in Milwaukee and I was really impressed with this espaliered persimmon tree.  It's a beautiful addition to a garage wall, and might even produce something edible one day.  Like all other gardeners, L. couldn't accept a compliment, and told us all about crappy this is, since it was her first attempt to espalier something.  Apparently, if you use the candelabra shape you shouldn't have a thick central leader, and there are a few bumps where she left the pruning a bit too late.  However, since I'm not a card-carrying member of the espalier-nazis, a notorious organization whose mission is to provide devastating critiques of innocent gardeners' attempts to train trees into attractive and space-saving shapes, I thought it looked very nice.  I'm tempted to try this on the shittiest part of my yard, although I'm not sure it gets enough sun for a fruit tree.

I'm also really jealous of L.'s bamboo.

I want to get one, but bamboo plants are pretty expensive and I'm afraid it will die.  Milwaukee is just a bit more temperate than Madison.  There are a few varieties that supposedly will survive our winters, such as Rubro and Nuda, but I have my doubts (some sellers list them for zone 6, making me skeptical of other sellers who optimistically claim they'll make it in zone 5).  Rubro and Nuda are also spreading rather than clumping--my preference is for a clumping bamboo.  I really hate to plant anything that can be described as an aggressive spreader.  That so often ends in disaster.

So, to recap, I can't plant bamboo because I'm afraid it will either take over my block or freeze to death.

Conventional Wisdom and Potting Soil

My in-laws were visiting from India last summer and watched in amusement as I emptied bag after bag of potting soil into my various containers.  In America, someone said, even the dirt comes in a plastic bag.  I don't think it was a compliment.

However, it did make me think.  It's Gardening 101 that you must use a good container mix for pots for root growth and development, but maybe next year I'll experiment and see what happens if I fill a few containers with regular garden soil and a little compost.  Will it really be an unmitigated disaster?  Have we sold our souls to the potting mix cartels?  I have to say though that I bought really cheap potting soil once and it was really dense and awful and everything I planted in it just languished.  Maybe I'll just see if I can buy potting soil in compostable bags.

Institutional Landscaping of the Damned, A Continuing Series (Part 2)

I suppose I should give them points for trying, but these are just about the most depressing containers I've ever seen.  I'm not crazy about red geraniums (people have this dreadful tendency to combine them patriotically with those bluish and white petunias around the 4th of July), but this is awful.  It's hard to even blame the smokers for tossing their butts on the ground here.  It hardly affects the aesthetic at all.

It's so tempting to liberate these planters in the dead of night to prevent another atrocity in the spring--plus, those half barrels are really pricy and would look so much nicer in my garden!

Breaking News: Brussels Sprouts Not a Total Disaster

So, I've harvested two batches of sprouts.  The first batch I roasted in the oven with just olive oil, salt, and pepper, and they came out quite well.

Yesterday--yes, I actually harvested something from the garden on Thanksgiving, it was quite satisfying--I added garlic and a handful of grapes, which were supposed to break down and help caramelize the sprouts.  It didn't totally work; I think you have to halve the grapes, and the sprouts got a bit overdone because I was also making gravy and blanching broccoli, and I really am incapable of doing more than one thing at a time.  However, I think there's potential here.  Next year I might plant a few more seedlings so that we can have Brussels Sprouts more than twice, although they take up a lot of room for a pretty small yield.  Maybe I need to stake them as they grow also--my sprouts were all twisted and hunchbacked, which they never are in the store.

Summer's Last Gasp

The nice thing about annuals is they seem to hang on a lot longer than any other flowers or foliage.  My hostas are already melting into yellowy decayed nothingness, but the begonias still look pretty good actually:

And one final shot of this season's marigolds:

I've always kind of felt like annuals are cheating, from a gardening point of view--somebody else starts them and gets them flowering and you just come along and chuck them in the ground and water them for a few weeks.  It's like horticultural plagiarism.  Even if you start your own annual seeds, it's not the same as perennials that you nurture for years and years.

However, I think I'm going to do more with annuals next year because they really provide a ton of great color and structure in the garden and last a lot longer than periennials.

What the Hell Happened to My Brussels Sprouts?

They still look too small to harvest.  WTF?  I'm ready to hibernate and I've still got unripe shit in the garden to deal with.

Ok, well, obviously, I should have consulted some experts before panicking.  First, according to Growing Great Vegetables in the Heartland, Brussels Sprouts taste a lot better after a few frosts.  Second, the book recommends snapping off the tops when autumn starts, to encourage the plants to put their energy into the sprouts rather than into growing ever taller.  All right, they've got maybe another week or two to get their act together.  Then, off with their heads!

The Under-Blogger Hard At Work

As useless as she is at helping in the garden, she's even more useless when it comes to churning out new posts.  In fact, she thinks my laptop is actually a heated cat bed.

Raptured While Raking?

On my way home from work the other day, I noticed that one of my neighbors had apparently been zapped up to the mothership or something, right in the middle of raking. The next day, it was still there!

Naturally, the more logical explanation is that they simply forgot, but these particular neighbors have a very small, very immaculate yard (I don't know them, but I kind of hate them), and it's just not like them to leave a rake lying about.  I think the rapture finally happened, and hardly anyone noticed.

Suck It, May

Check out my November flowers!

I love these hardy chrysanthemums, even though they do have an unfortunate tendency to flop over.

Institutional Landscaping of the Damned (An Ongoing Series)

This just leaves me asking why.  Why not just put in a decorative rock or something?  What is the point of a brutally pruned shrub entombed in a desert of rock mulch and accompanied by an air conditioning unit? In fact, accompanied is exactly the right word; they haven't tried to obscure the unit with a riot of bushes, they've placed them in perfect balance.  Neither element of the design is more or less important.

It's alive and green, but really looks dead and lifeless.  Ironically, the completely untended weeds along the bike path a mere 20 feet away look much better (if you can block out the chain link fence).

I get that people want low-maintenance landscaping, but I think some well-adapted native plants would actually require less work--they must be spraying weedkiller regularly to keep this space free of interlopers that might detract from their bush/air conditioner composition.