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•JUNE'S GARDEN’
"To bed, to bed," the garden said,
"The cheerful cricket sleeps."
Winter's wind blows from the North.
Shadows dance through the trees.
As shadows love to do.
Dark clouds bring frost and frozen ice
That chills your toes and/eddens your nose.
Sleep, Sleep, cover your head,
It's time to rest a while.
Only your dreams will bring the sun.
Winter's put Summer to bed.
J. G. K.
There is not much more I can do to put my garden to bed
for winter. The November winds and rains have soaked and
whipped the last blossoms of the dahlias, chrysanthemums
and roses. A few blooms of the tough nasturtiums, fall
blooming Kafir-lilies (Schizostylis coccinea), and one last
rose bloom graced our Thanksgiving table.
I've cut back all the perennials, spent days digging out
the traveling deep roots of wild aster that had found their
way into the lily bed, dressed the flower beds with last year's
finished compost, mounding more around the base of the
roses which I'll dig into the soil when the first bud's growth
appears next spring. For me, the hardest job of all is to
carry all the pots and fragile plants to my upstairs southwest
window. I can't resist trying to save every geranium or
fuschia plant, even though I have started new plants from
cuttings I made a month or two ago.
The David Austin roses I planted three years ago had
grown long, brambly stems. I cut them back to about
waist-high so the wind wouldn't whip the plant causing the
trunk of the plant to be pulled out and the roots to be
exposed to the air. If you are concerned about any shrubs or
trees that are newly planted and haven't had time to develop a
strong root system, secure them with staking and tying.
My yard, which is only 175 feet from the ocean, gets the
full force of the winds and I can't keep pots or garden
furniture on my deck in winter. I have a large cold frame
where I keep the more sturdy plants.
When adding mulch to the garden to protect your plants
from frost or occasional dipping of temperatures, use
compost, pine needles, or any other organic material. Even
newspapers held down with rocks or other heavy objects can
be used. Before I learned the value of using compost for
mulch. I nearly suffocated many rhododendron plants by
using creat quantities of bark dust. In time it formed a crust
on the top of the soil and, because rhododendrons are surface
feeders, the roots couldn't penetrate the crust to get moisture.
Rhododendrons benefit from mulch and rich organic matter,
but need more air in the root zone than any other plants;
also, more constant moisture supply. Be sure any dressing
vou use is light in texture. I now use compost and pine
needles which can be easily removed, or lightly scratch with
a hand rake into the soil around the base of the plant. Never
cultivate the soil around rhododendrons or you will disturb
the surface roots.
I've ended this season with the reward of knowing I ve
done all I can to protect the garden, but I also have a few
sore muscles and a slight hitch, as they say, "in my giddy-
up." I may not be as young as I thought I was, but -- my
enthusiasm and optimism for next year's garden never
wavers. It’s just that my body tells me to take each day a
little more slowly and not try to dig up the whole yard in
one day.
This reminds me of my favorite garden story, called,
"Never Too Old: The Tale of an Ancient's Garden," written
by an elderly woman. The story begins with her telling
about buying an old whaling captain's house built in 1834
on Nantucket Island, which included one acre of wild,
uncultivated moors behind the house.
While looking at the seed catalog she'd received from a
friend and dreaming about how she used to garden, her
thoughts were interrupted by a T.V. commercial advertising
tombstones. The salesman was saying that the life span of
an average American was age 71. This made her feel most
unwanted, for she was approaching 80. To soothe her
injured feelings, she decided to dig up the moors and raise a
vear's supply of vegetables for herself, thus showing the
world or herself that nobody has to stop all activities after
the age of 71.
. . .
On the first day of March, she took her spade in hand.
The plot she'd planned shrank considerably after a few
spadefuls. The first day she had got carried away, as she had
4I
found many arrowheads; evidently the sod hadn't been dug
since Indian days.
She finally decided on a 20 x 25 ft. plot, either for a
grave " she chuckled, "or a vegetable garden." She found she
could dig eight spadefuls before her connective tissue seemed
to be disconnected. However, by St. Patrick's Day she had
dug and planted four rows of peas.
Next her intention was to prepare indoor flats of
tomatoes, peppers, egg plant and broccoli, while still
keeping up the calisthenics of eight spadefuls per day. In
the middle of June, after she harvested her peas, she used the
space to plant 50 tomato plants she had started in the flats.
As vegetables popped up, she added a walk to her daily
schedule to collect seaweed and kelp to mulch in her garden.
She had read it was a great soil builder.
She felt very proud of herself, even though each night she
soothed her aching back and sore muscles with a heating pad
and liniment. Each day her accomplishments and
enthusiasm pushed her on. By the 20th of May she had
planted 15 varieties of vegetables. She told of enjoying all
the fresh vegetables and having a freezer full of a year’s
supply.
Her story ends with "how ambulatory" her 80-year-old
knees kept bending, crouching, kneeling; but mostly of the
therapeutic benefits of quiet days spent with Mother Nature.
.. and if she kept up with these activities maybe next year
she would try to dig nine spadefuls each day, but that even
seven would be enough.
This story was printed long ago. I don t remember what
year or what publication I clipped it from, but I have reread
it many times and am always inspired by her endeavors and
enthusiasm. If how many spadefuls determine ones fitness, I
guess 20 or more a day puts me somewhere in the middle?
l ast week when I was digging in my garden, I unearthed a
small perfume bottle. I think it was on my 21st spadeful.
I'll add it to my collection of shards of blue and white china,
an old milk glass Pond's jar, a pint glass cream bottle that is
now turning purple from the sun's rays as it sits on the shelf
in my garden room with an old blue glass Milk of Magnesia
bottle, all that I've dug up in the last 15 years, which
someone buried in this garden years ago. Maybe some day
I'll find an arrowhead. This land too was once the home of
an Indian tribe.
Soon I will decorate the fireplace mantle with berried
branches of Skimma, grey green foliage of False Cypress
and Artimisia, pine boughs, small leafed Ivy, and holly.
My Christmas cactus bloomed at Thanksgiving (poor
timing). Now there is room for a Poinsettia, a white-
flowered Amaryllis and a pot of "Paper White" Narcissus.
Have a safe and happy holiday and may your New Year be
full of hope and peace and plans to spend a few quiet days
with Mother Nature.
How many spadefuls can you dig in one day? Who
knows, you too might unearth a treasure.
«
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AAJT7RAL FOODS COOPERATIVE
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