Spring is Limping

Jonquils against the raised bed; Deb Marshall photo

Spring is limping towards us, though in parts of the state I hear it’s actually arrived. Here, however, only three days ago the forsythia slid into bloom, and two days before, the jonquils planted right next to the cement-wall raised bed bloomed, but those in the garden are still just green shoots. I see a few tulip leaves emerging; the leaves of the rhubarb plant were just visible all rolled up and nobby, but today started to unfurl; and I even see a few peony shoots under all the mulchy stuff, and the scilla I planted last fall are in bloom. 

The tree frogs and peepers are singing their songs and there have been hooty owls at night, but it’s also only about 35 degrees tonight and it wasn’t a whole lot warmer earlier today. Between the wind and the rain rain rain rain and the cold temperatures it really isn’t like spring yet.

Figures – I put the snow boots away and decided it was safe to wash and put away the winter jackets last weekend. Expect a snow storm. Tonight, actually.

 

The evolution of emerging rhubarb in just a few days; Deb Marshall photos

Last week the Husband was taking a shower and started shouting “Come quick, come quick, come quick!” Heart in my mouth, I raced to the bathroom. “Look out the window!” he shouts.

There, nibbling on my garlic shoots, was the curious fawn from last fall – more like a young deer now, but, damn – in my garden having a snack! And so much for the theory that deer don’t like garlic.

Nibbled garlic; Deb Marshall photo

 

We tapped on the window and he looked up but went right back to nibbling. So I raced out the door and clapped my hands and shouted, “You can’t be in the garden now! Go eat grass!” He (she?) fluffed his tail and looked at me, then went back to business. So I ran down the wart stairs and clapped and shouted again. He didn’t budge. I ran over to the garden and clapped and shouted again. The tail fluffed, he looked at me, considered for a moment, and went back to nibbling. Why, oh why, didn’t I take the time to grab the camera before I ran outside? But I didn’t. So I stamped my feet and shouted, and moved closer towards him.

He fluffed again, turned around and moved a few feet away; if I’d had a carrot with me I would have probably been feeding a wild deer from my hand. We were only about 7 feet apart, and stared at each other awhile, then he decided it was time to depart – not in a major rush.

I went hunting for deer discourager that afternoon, and discovered most are made of – garlic! So I bought granulated coyote urine, instead.  It’s been raining steadily so I haven’t put it down yet, and I’m hoping it’ll work until I meet my next dog, who I imagine will take up the job of  peeing around the garden and warding off the deer. 

Spring somethings - Scilla? Deb Marshall photo

Four lovely loaded pallets arrived last week – one of bricks and pavers, and cement blocks that I used to replace the rotted wood that held one raised bed together; one of bales of hay that will mulch the raspberry canes that should arrive in the next couple of weeks; one of dozens of bags of composted manure, and organic potting soil mixed with manure, and organic top soil. These will be distributed to various beds before planting, and are also filling four new beds that fill the space between the existing garden and the back of the row of compost bins/peony bed/ old compost bed, a space that’s hard to mow.  This is where the winter’s worth of saved cardboard and newspapers goes – a thick layer of cardboard  and newspaper to kill the grass, covered with soil and manure or compost, makes a fine garden bed. A third pallet of  cedar mulch will replenish the few paths I have in the garden that are still unpaved, and add to the job I started under the blueberry bushes last summer. And the fourth, most exciting pallet, is 120 rock-like chunks that I’ll use to build another perennial bed wall along the back side of the fence, and finish edging the front beds so mowing will be simpler.

So even though it was way too cold to be outside working the garden, and definitely too cold to plant anything more than onions and shallots and maybe some seeds that like cool soil, I’ve been putting off planting anything and am working hard to get in some more paths, finish the four new beds, get the potato bags ready for planting next weekend, and similar chores that never get done before it’s time to plant and the list of things to do gets even crazier. I’ve been out until 7:30 pm three times now, and Saturday I’m pretty sure I froze my toes off – I’ll not know until my feet thaw out.

New bed and the pallet of chunky things; Deb Marshall photo

Note to self: take the ibuprofen before heading out to the garden – it takes a lower dose and only one more dose before bed’s needed. If I take it only after I’ve been hauling heavy stuff around, I’ll sleep in a bed of pain and limp around all the next day. 

The list of stuff still to do is long: weed the beds before adding manure, get trenches ready for the asparagus roots that will soon arrive, figure out where to put the three new peach trees that are also going to arrive soon, get the onion sets that should be here Monday into the ground, and the seed potatoes ready to plant next weekend. Build the new perennial bed, and figure out where to put the peas and favas and other cool weather plants this year. And  I already know I didn’t order enough pavers and bricks - all I have to do is stand outside for a few moments and I can see other places I need a path. So much for advance planning. 

Dragon's new home on the edge of four new beds; Deb Marshall photo

One of my patients was telling me a story the other day about someone she knows finding a pile of golf balls at the bottom of a tree in the woods. He was walking with a friend, and they were sort of near a golf course, but not close enough that golfers would have lost so many balls that far into the woods. “The squirrels take them,” his friend said. “They seem to think the golf balls are nuts. They carry them off and hide them in trees. I bet if we shake this one, more will fall out.” So they did – and a rain of golfballs fell down.

That, I think, is even more curious than the curious fawn!

For the blog: 29 April 2019

Heart-leaved Hardy Thing; Deb Marshall photo