Growth, Decay, Growth

Early spring: the time of year when I spend most of my time in the vegetable garden, preparing rows, planting seeds and home-grown seedlings, weeding and weeding again. It is also a time when I am struck with wonder at the miracle of it all: the seeds germinating, the growth patterns, the yearly emergence of asparagus spears, the delicious fruits and vegetables I'm able to grow. 

 

Although I do understand––a little––about DNA, it still seems remarkable that this teeny broccoli seed, put in soil and watered, will grow into the broccoli plant in the first photo; it is mind-boggling to think about it.

These more recognizable seeds of corn will grow into six foot tall plants. Of course other life forms, including Homo sapiens, have tiny beginnings, all wondrous. 

Working in the garden, and walking in the woods,  also reminds me that decay has a major role in the life cycle. A compost pile is a clear lesson in how scraps of food and plant remains can be transformed over time...

,,,,into a nutrient rich soil supplement.

In a more natural way, years of decaying plant material creates a forest floor welcoming to new plants and trees. 

Over a long period of time I've seen an old pile of logs become more and more part of the forest floor, covered with mosses and lichen, small plants, and young trees; it is now a mound of new green growth, softened in outline.

The plant-covered pile of logs above began just like this one, and I expect that in several years these bare dead logs will be covered with plant life.

Decaying tree stumps are also hospitable to new plants, which create a lively mix of greens, and rich textures.

Many mushrooms grow on dead wood, such as these hemlock varnish shelf mushrooms brightening a tree stump. 

Decaying trees support more than other members of the plant family, and fungi: when I see wood chips scattered over the forest floor, I look for the telltale holes made by pileated woodpeckers drilling for insects. I've often heard the loud rat-a-tat-tat of these large birds hammering in the woods.

This cycle of life to decay to new life reminds me of John Cage's words: 

The world, the real is not an object. It is a process.                                                       

 

The Intense Pleasure of the Early Spring Garden

How glorious it is to be outdoors in weather that is finally sunny and mild, and to begin to work in the vegetable garden! It is beautiful to see the early growth of bulbs planted last fall: tulips and garlic. I feel a deep sense of satisfaction looking at them, and this feeling is especially keen when there is so little evidence thus far of growth, except for the Egyptian onions and the robust weeds.

My first job was to march around the garden with my wheel hoe, slicing off the many weeds that spread across the soil. I then raked them up into piles and carted them off as fill in the various holes left during the winter by the road crew. I love the spare look of the early garden; it's the look of promise.

While I worked the wood frogs were singing accompaniment in the pond, making their joyous quacking mating noise. In the video above you can hear the sound. When I first lived here I thought there were ducks on the pond even though I couldn't see them. I was very confused and it took me several days to realize the sound came from frogs: the wood frog.
*If the video doesn't work in the email of this blog post, click on the title of the post above to go to the post online where you can see and hear it.

When I finished neatening up the soil, my next chore was to put up the pea fence. I had planned my rows a few days ago, marking them with small sticks, so now I put up the stakes for the fence––3 feet high for the 25 foot row of shell peas; and 6 feet high, with another foot or so added with broom handles for the 9 feet of sugar snap peas––and then rolled out the chicken wire to attach to it. Planting the peas will be next....and the spinach, which goes in a double row next to the snap peas. You can see the string I use to mark the rows; that's where the spinach will go. These crops are very hardy so can be planted when there's still a chance of hard frost.

Wood frogs weren't the only creatures adding delight to my day; there were also lots of chickadees flitting about, and resting on the chicken wire pea fence. They are friendly little birds. They're attracted to the garden because of the peanut butter I've placed inside aluminum foil packets and wrapped around the garden's electric fence. This is my method to discourage deer and small animals such as woodchucks, raccoons, and skunk, who will get stung if they try to get a taste of that delicious, highly scented treat. But birds hanging on the fence are not grounded, so they don't get a shock. They eventually finish off all the peanut butter and I have to replace it, but I don't begrudge them their nice little meal.

Another early spring chore is to finish up the compost pile I was building and start another one; I have three going: one that's cooking, one I'm building, and one that I'm using. I put a layer of soil over the one that will be cooking, then some hay, and I then cover it all with chicken wire because I have a problem with skunks getting in the compost and tossing it about. This is another satisfying aspect of the garden: turning food and garden waste into rich fertilizer and soil amendment for the newly growing plants.

The first greens from the garden are these perennial Egyptian onions; they come up each spring brightly green and with a crisp onion flavor. I cut some for my midday soup and they will flavor my boughten organic dinner salad. The anticipation of the harvests to come is delicious....and in just about another month: asparagus! Working in the sun, smelling the spring air, hearing the frogs and birds, knowing that the work will lead to large harvests of healthy, tasty vegetables: what a life affirming activity!

An Early-Spring Surprise: The Beauty of Freezing Rain

March is a flighty month, unable to settle on any one season or type of weather. After several lovely spring-like days, it turned wintry again. Temperatures in the 20s feel a great deal colder in March than they do in January. Sometimes unwanted weather can bring with it a gift, as did this morning's freezing rain: it encased branches and twigs and grasses in ice.....

....making a softly glittering landscape.

Branches were outlined in light, and rocks had thin coverings of snow and ice.

Each red line of the Burning Bush was emphasized by white.

It was poignant to see the swelling buds of lilac in their icy covering.

Sparkling ice made jewels of dried hydrangea....

....and goldenrod....

....and asters. The weather will warm again tomorrow, so I will be back in the orchard pruning apple trees, and in the vegetable garden laying out rows for planting. But there will likely be more winter events before spring settles in for good.

Beginnings....

It was a beautiful day yesterday, with bright sun and temperatures in the 50s....the excitement of Spring! We've had an almost worryingly mild winter, so things are getting off to an early start this year. Snowdrops are the first floral harbinger of spring: last year March and April were very cold; as I look back on the photo I took of snowdrops in 2015, it is dated April 7th, more than 3 weeks later than today.

As I wandered across the mud of my vegetable garden I saw bits of green: here last year's parsley regrowing. It's a biennial, but I've never had much luck having the plants for a second year, but maybe this year I will.

Perennial herbs begin to pop up early.  The slender fingers of chives wave upward....

....and the rounded leaves of sorrel poke up. They have a lovely red tint early in the season; as they grow they become pure green. At this stage the leaves are very small, 1 or 2 inches long, but so resolutely growing.

There are some green leaves on the parsnips. I went into the garden this afternoon with my shovel, planning to dig them up and have delicious roast parsnips with dinner, but when I put the shovel in the ground it only went down a couple of inches: the ground is still frozen solid under a layer of mud. Soon......

Other flowers are beginning to pop up: the tulips I plant for cutting looking like elongated candy corn....

....and some daylilies, encouraged by the warmth radiating from the south-facing granite foundation of the house.

Lastly, the earliest of daffodils, the small yellow February Gold is off to a good start. They will be the second flower to bloom in my garden. All this happens every year and is quite ordinary, but every year this reawakening thrills me and fills me with anticipatory joy.

Retreating Snow

Last winter was a season of bitter cold and snow; this year winter couldn't be more different. I wrote happily about the late arrival of winter in a blog post dated January 5, and now, a month later, the landscape looks as though it might be mid March. The snow is disappearing and the sap has started running.

The small incidents of melting snow show little beauties, which I'm determined to enjoy although they are much more joyous after three months of cold and deep snow. The warmth of plants melts the ice....

....and they appear as though framed in glitter.

A still-green fern pops up above the snow alongside a graceful dried leaf.

I love seeing the leaves and branches that have fallen on the snow begin to settle into it....

....as their warmth creates a surrounding bed, perfectly proportioned.

There are circles clear of snow around tree trunks, warming for the spring season.

And on the front lawn patches of snow invite imaginative visions, of a horse....

....or a swaying figure. Of course winter is not yet over, and we may have more cold and snow, but it's good practice to enjoy whatever comes.

Ah, Winter!

Winter has finally arrived after weeks of worryingly warm weather. Although there were some cold days and some winter phenomena––such as the rime ice I wrote about and photographed here on December 6––most days were milder than normal. The New York Times published an article on December 30 titled "Climate Chaos, Across The Map", detailing anomalous weather across the globe. So it was a relief to have cold and snow and sleet. And to see the beauty that is reserved for winter with white ground and laden trees within a neutral landscape, as seen above on the last morning of 2015.

There were continuous soft snow flurries on the first day of the new year. I love winter days like that, with the snow adding some brightness, and deepening the quiet. A day of light snow, watching the flakes fall, is a soothing one.

Quirky small events happen during winter's cold, such as oddly shaped icicles....

....and branches encased in sparkling packages....

....and conifer needles delicately enhanced by icy caps.

A tiny brook in the woods runs a rich black between white banks.

Sometimes geometries appear, such as a dark icy circle surrounded by snow.

 There are poignant details, such as tiny seeds scattered alongside the deep footprint of a deer....

....and fine lines of grasses barely marking the expanse of white. I love the hiatus of winter, the suspension of the growing season; it makes spring all the more precious. Winter can be a difficult season, but I would hate to be without it.