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Saturday, November 27, 2010

In Memory of My Dearest Friend

I lost my best friend and gardening companion on Thanksgiving. She worked side by side with me over eight years as I created my many gardens, worked on continuous projects, and lived life one happy day after another. No aspect of my life was left untouched by her unwavering love and devotion.


Shaca Latte

Shaca Latte arrived as a small ball of brown hair and swollen eyes, an unexpected gift from my wife. I didn’t think I was ready for a new puppy after losing my very special and adored friend, Stranger, to cancer. But on that first day Shaca walked happily with me in the backyard tripping over the tall grass blades. She stole my heart and never left my side. Until this week.
We all hope for friends and love and having someone who thinks we’re the most important person in the world. I’m one of the lucky ones to have found that. Shaca was bound to me and I to her by an understanding that we wanted each other, loved each other, and needed each other. She redefined the definition of loyalty and friendship for me.
Our mornings always started the same way. At around 4 a.m. she would leap onto the bed with stealth and finesse. For those many years she never woke me. Hours later I’d find her curled at my feet. It was only on a few occasions when I happened to be awake at that early hour that I was enthralled by how she managed to jump with a grace that allowed her to land in a space that my legs didn’t occupy. She would calmly lie down and rest her head on my feet, gently so as not to wake me.
She would stay on the bed and watch as I tended to dressing and preparing for the day. She could tell by which pair of pants I put on what the day’s activities would be. With one leg into my work jeans, her tail would start beating against the mattress with vigor. As soon as I headed toward the bedroom door she would jump down and then walk closely at my side down the hallway with an energy I could never summon in the morning. 

On the bed, waiting

She waited as patiently as she could as I prepared my cup of tea and started the water boiling. Her tail would start up again when I slipped on my shoes. She’d trip over herself  making her way to the front door. She knew to sit and wait for my command, but there was always anticipation on her part. I’d open the door, pause to make sure the coast was clear with no unsuspecting squirrels hanging around, then give her the hand signal that she was allowed to go. She would bound through the door, sailing through the air as she leapt over the steps. I would slowly walk to the edge of the driveway to pick up the newspaper providing her ample time to sniff the area and update herself on all the olfactory activities from the night before. I’d head back to the house and she would follow. We did this every morning for eight years, until yesterday. That was one of the most difficult mornings of my life when I had to do it alone.
In my chair
A chocolate lab, she loved the outdoors and water and being with me. She would lie patiently as I read the paper, most often lying in my lap as I sat in my recliner. She never seemed to grasp that she was a 70-pound dog and not the 10-pound puppy who first curled into my lap. I didn’t mind. It made her happy to curl into an amazingly small ball between my legs. It made me happy too.

The mornings would continue as I headed into the home office to check email, work, and maybe blog and she would squeeze under the desk to curl up on my feet. After a short time, though never soon enough for her, I would put on my work boots, and a jacket if there was a chill, and we would head out to begin our day outside. This was where she was happiest. 
She’d help me water the garden, taking the time to lap up water as it streamed from the hose. She’d patrol the area around the plants, always sniffing the ground. If I continued to water, she continued to sneak drinks from the hose. On hot days she’d run through the water like a kid, soaking herself. She would merrily shake the water free from her coat and do it again.

Shaca watching over the garden
On days that I’d grab a shovel she’d bound happily by my side. After I’d turn over a section of ground she’d waste no time lying on top of the loose soil. Never more than a few feet from where I worked, she would move with me as I dug further, picking a new spot on new soil near my boots. On special days I’d let her dig along with me. I might have to caution her to slow down because in her enthusiasm she’d lose sight of the gardening goal, but I usually just let her dig. She never wantonly dug up our plants; on just a couple occasions, she disturbed a few lavender plants as she eagerly hunted a gopher that had tunneled beneath them. She always had respect for our garden.
Running back to me
We’d walk around the property on clear days and in snow. She knew the area was hers to protect and enjoy. She would bound ahead, always with endless energy and enthusiasm, and return to my side for reassurance before bounding away again. When I’d stop she would stop. When I paused to inspect the trees or grass or sky, she would pause and observe the same location.
She had a weakness for squirrels. I don’t think she hated them, but rather wanted them to know they had no place in her yard. When one was spotted she would jump continuously into the tree until the squirrel would leave. She could jump. High. Taking a running start and using the trunk as a ramp, she would soar to unbelievable heights. I don’t remember her ever catching a squirrel by herself though on at least one occasion the squirrel she scared from a tree was snatched by one of our other dogs; I rescued it soon after. Once she spied a squirrel nothing else could distract her from her task.

Jumping for squirrels
She wasn’t afraid of machinery or power tools. Whether I was cutting lumber with a spiral saw or trimming trees with a chainsaw, she would lie watching me, waiting for the next part of the activity. When I’d mow the lawn she would find a nice location to observe my labor, always as close as she could. That simple chore would cause her to change spots a dozen times as she moved to be closer and be a more integral part of my effort.
When I’d unload soil or rock or mulch from the truck, she’d supervise my work. She never failed to be covered by the same dust as me. I have no doubt she would have shared my shovel if she could.
At the end of the afternoon, after we were both worn out, we’d walk slowly back to the house. She rarely ran to the house with the same energy with which she left it. Being outside with me was where she wanted to be. I tried to find as many excuses as I could to enable that.
Evenings were a calmer period. She would patiently and quietly beg with her beautiful brown eyes during dinner; she knew she always got scraps, but waited beside me with anticipation for the delicious bits. I taught her to catch the morsels and she was a marvel to behold as she snagged the airborne treats with speed and agility, but always with grace.
We’d watch TV or read a book or magazine, again with her curled into my lap. If she overheated she would roll over my feet and melt onto the floor with a clunk. Before long she’d be in my lap again. 
When it was time for bed we’d head back down the hall. For an unknown reason she was afraid of the area just outside the bedroom door and would pause anxiously before making a dash into the room. It was the same at both houses we’ve lived in. When I walked with her it helped relieve the anxiety and she’d settle in on her pad at the side of the bed. A few hours later she’d be at my feet on top and we’d start our day again.
Shaca had an endearing love for everyone around me. She accepted my new wife with utmost devotion and affection. On the days I was in town or away on a trip, she would curl at my wife’s feet under her desk. She would anxiously await my return. She would accompany my wife through the house and in whatever tasks they shared, but as soon as I reappeared everyone else disappeared. She would be glued at my side as she waited for the next activity we could share. Always at my side.
She’s gone now and there’s a hole in my heart. An unexpected and serious medical issue made her departure happen too fast. We had a scare a year ago when a thyroid tumor threatened our partnership. But we overcame that dilemma and she sailed past the vet’s prognosis like she sailed over the steps in the morning.
It will be difficult to continue gardening without her. I will, but it will be hard. I see her in everything I see in the yard and gardens. That’s why I can continue because I know part of her is in the soil and plants and trees. Wherever she is she’ll be able to lie down and watch me. That’s what she liked to do so much. I don’t want to take that away from her, especially now.
My life is better because of her time in it. She taught me to be a better person. She taught me to enjoy my garden and the outdoors in a way I never had before. She made every day special because to her every day with me was special. We shared life.
I miss her. I always will. We still have other dogs and will have more in the future. But there is only one Shaca Latte. The experience of deep and total love, from her to me and me to her, can never be forgotten.
Thank you, Shaca. May you chase squirrels forever as you protect your garden and watch over me.

Shaca Latte, 2002-2010
Rest in Peace

I lost my best friend and gardening companion on Thanksgiving. She worked side by side with me over eight years as I created my many gardens, worked on continuous projects, and lived life one happy day after another. No aspect of my life was left untouched by her unwavering love and devotion.


Shaca Latte

Shaca Latte arrived as a small ball of brown hair and swollen eyes, an unexpected gift from my wife. I didn’t think I was ready for a new puppy after losing my very special and adored friend, Stranger, to cancer. But on that first day Shaca walked happily with me in the backyard tripping over the tall grass blades. She stole my heart and never left my side. Until this week.
We all hope for friends and love and having someone who thinks we’re the most important person in the world. I’m one of the lucky ones to have found that. Shaca was bound to me and I to her by an understanding that we wanted each other, loved each other, and needed each other. She redefined the definition of loyalty and friendship for me.
Our mornings always started the same way. At around 4 a.m. she would leap onto the bed with stealth and finesse. For those many years she never woke me. Hours later I’d find her curled at my feet. It was only on a few occasions when I happened to be awake at that early hour that I was enthralled by how she managed to jump with a grace that allowed her to land in a space that my legs didn’t occupy. She would calmly lie down and rest her head on my feet, gently so as not to wake me.
She would stay on the bed and watch as I tended to dressing and preparing for the day. She could tell by which pair of pants I put on what the day’s activities would be. With one leg into my work jeans, her tail would start beating against the mattress with vigor. As soon as I headed toward the bedroom door she would jump down and then walk closely at my side down the hallway with an energy I could never summon in the morning. 

On the bed, waiting

She waited as patiently as she could as I prepared my cup of tea and started the water boiling. Her tail would start up again when I slipped on my shoes. She’d trip over herself  making her way to the front door. She knew to sit and wait for my command, but there was always anticipation on her part. I’d open the door, pause to make sure the coast was clear with no unsuspecting squirrels hanging around, then give her the hand signal that she was allowed to go. She would bound through the door, sailing through the air as she leapt over the steps. I would slowly walk to the edge of the driveway to pick up the newspaper providing her ample time to sniff the area and update herself on all the olfactory activities from the night before. I’d head back to the house and she would follow. We did this every morning for eight years, until yesterday. That was one of the most difficult mornings of my life when I had to do it alone.
In my chair
A chocolate lab, she loved the outdoors and water and being with me. She would lie patiently as I read the paper, most often lying in my lap as I sat in my recliner. She never seemed to grasp that she was a 70-pound dog and not the 10-pound puppy who first curled into my lap. I didn’t mind. It made her happy to curl into an amazingly small ball between my legs. It made me happy too.

The mornings would continue as I headed into the home office to check email, work, and maybe blog and she would squeeze under the desk to curl up on my feet. After a short time, though never soon enough for her, I would put on my work boots, and a jacket if there was a chill, and we would head out to begin our day outside. This was where she was happiest. 
She’d help me water the garden, taking the time to lap up water as it streamed from the hose. She’d patrol the area around the plants, always sniffing the ground. If I continued to water, she continued to sneak drinks from the hose. On hot days she’d run through the water like a kid, soaking herself. She would merrily shake the water free from her coat and do it again.

Shaca watching over the garden
On days that I’d grab a shovel she’d bound happily by my side. After I’d turn over a section of ground she’d waste no time lying on top of the loose soil. Never more than a few feet from where I worked, she would move with me as I dug further, picking a new spot on new soil near my boots. On special days I’d let her dig along with me. I might have to caution her to slow down because in her enthusiasm she’d lose sight of the gardening goal, but I usually just let her dig. She never wantonly dug up our plants; on just a couple occasions, she disturbed a few lavender plants as she eagerly hunted a gopher that had tunneled beneath them. She always had respect for our garden.
Running back to me
We’d walk around the property on clear days and in snow. She knew the area was hers to protect and enjoy. She would bound ahead, always with endless energy and enthusiasm, and return to my side for reassurance before bounding away again. When I’d stop she would stop. When I paused to inspect the trees or grass or sky, she would pause and observe the same location.
She had a weakness for squirrels. I don’t think she hated them, but rather wanted them to know they had no place in her yard. When one was spotted she would jump continuously into the tree until the squirrel would leave. She could jump. High. Taking a running start and using the trunk as a ramp, she would soar to unbelievable heights. I don’t remember her ever catching a squirrel by herself though on at least one occasion the squirrel she scared from a tree was snatched by one of our other dogs; I rescued it soon after. Once she spied a squirrel nothing else could distract her from her task.

Jumping for squirrels
She wasn’t afraid of machinery or power tools. Whether I was cutting lumber with a spiral saw or trimming trees with a chainsaw, she would lie watching me, waiting for the next part of the activity. When I’d mow the lawn she would find a nice location to observe my labor, always as close as she could. That simple chore would cause her to change spots a dozen times as she moved to be closer and be a more integral part of my effort.
When I’d unload soil or rock or mulch from the truck, she’d supervise my work. She never failed to be covered by the same dust as me. I have no doubt she would have shared my shovel if she could.
At the end of the afternoon, after we were both worn out, we’d walk slowly back to the house. She rarely ran to the house with the same energy with which she left it. Being outside with me was where she wanted to be. I tried to find as many excuses as I could to enable that.
Evenings were a calmer period. She would patiently and quietly beg with her beautiful brown eyes during dinner; she knew she always got scraps, but waited beside me with anticipation for the delicious bits. I taught her to catch the morsels and she was a marvel to behold as she snagged the airborne treats with speed and agility, but always with grace.
We’d watch TV or read a book or magazine, again with her curled into my lap. If she overheated she would roll over my feet and melt onto the floor with a clunk. Before long she’d be in my lap again. 
When it was time for bed we’d head back down the hall. For an unknown reason she was afraid of the area just outside the bedroom door and would pause anxiously before making a dash into the room. It was the same at both houses we’ve lived in. When I walked with her it helped relieve the anxiety and she’d settle in on her pad at the side of the bed. A few hours later she’d be at my feet on top and we’d start our day again.
Shaca had an endearing love for everyone around me. She accepted my new wife with utmost devotion and affection. On the days I was in town or away on a trip, she would curl at my wife’s feet under her desk. She would anxiously await my return. She would accompany my wife through the house and in whatever tasks they shared, but as soon as I reappeared everyone else disappeared. She would be glued at my side as she waited for the next activity we could share. Always at my side.
She’s gone now and there’s a hole in my heart. An unexpected and serious medical issue made her departure happen too fast. We had a scare a year ago when a thyroid tumor threatened our partnership. But we overcame that dilemma and she sailed past the vet’s prognosis like she sailed over the steps in the morning.
It will be difficult to continue gardening without her. I will, but it will be hard. I see her in everything I see in the yard and gardens. That’s why I can continue because I know part of her is in the soil and plants and trees. Wherever she is she’ll be able to lie down and watch me. That’s what she liked to do so much. I don’t want to take that away from her, especially now.
My life is better because of her time in it. She taught me to be a better person. She taught me to enjoy my garden and the outdoors in a way I never had before. She made every day special because to her every day with me was special. We shared life.
I miss her. I always will. We still have other dogs and will have more in the future. But there is only one Shaca Latte. The experience of deep and total love, from her to me and me to her, can never be forgotten.
Thank you, Shaca. May you chase squirrels forever as you protect your garden and watch over me.

Shaca Latte, 2002-2010
Rest in Peace

Monday, November 22, 2010

Birds of a Feather Hungrily Flock Together

Birds and gardening go together like rednecks and NASCAR (no disrespect intended). The activity of one brings out thousands of the other. To me that's a good thing. I'm a great lover of wildlife as part of the landscape and do what I can to encourage it, especially birds. Recently my gardens were designated a "Certified Wildlife Habitat" by the National Wildlife Federation. Now, even more than before, I make a point to recognize what is happening in my yard as it pertains to wildlife.


Imagine my surprise and delight when on a chilly weekend morning I observed dozens of birds grazing through my garden simultaneously. I recognized four of the types right away. The dark-headed Steller's Jays were swooping into the crowd and out again before they picked momentary fights with each other. The Black-billed Magpies fed on the fringes and would glide majestically from one border to the other over the heads of the lesser birds. A solitary Northern Flicker woodpecker was poking his long beak into the soil as though it was the side of a tall pine. A pair of Mourning Doves bobbed in the grass walking side by side.

Initially I wasn't able to identify the birds that populated the majority of the flock. After an online search it appears that they were European Starlings. They waddled in a large group combing through the grass and twigs seeking out seeds. Their chunky bodies and short tails looked out of place among the more graceful blue and gray birds.

All of these birds and many others have fed on my seeds, berries, and insects before, but this was the first time I noticed so many different types feeding at the same time in the same place. They focused their attention beneath the forest of dried sunflowers, but spread out over the entire space of my vegetable garden. Apparently there are still many seeds sprinkled on the ground and they fed at the smorgasbord with no regard to the color of their neighbor. That by itself is a wonderful moral of the story.

My attention, however, was on the fact that at the end of November my garden is still providing sustenance for wildlife. I haven't hacked away any of my seed-bearing flowers or weeds. Some of the withered vegetables are still lying in the raised beds or on the paths between. There's little doubt that recent warm weather has allowed insects to remain active on the soil surface. All of this gives ample culinary opportunities to varieties of birds.

I found it intriguing that none of this great flock was feeding from the hanging feeder or bowl of seed resting scant feet away. On that morning they preferred to search at ground level. Maybe the insects were active, maybe the older seeds tasted better, maybe they needed the exercise. Whatever the reason, it was a marvelous sight.

That's what gardening and having habitats for wildlife is all about -- marveling at what you've created. All of those birds had other places they could have fed, but they chose my garden on that morning both individually and as a group. It was a place they felt was abundant and safe. I was enthralled by the experience so much that I didn't think to photograph it. I'll try to rectify that in the future.

What have you created for your birds? Gardens can be designed to attract specific species, like hummingbirds. They can also be designed to attract a myriad of species, as mine do. As you think about spring plantings and garden design for next year, I encourage you think about the birds. Add a flower or shrub or grass that will benefit an avian friend. It's easy to do and when you see the results you'll have those moments of wonder. It's another way to add variety and multi-season enjoyment to your garden.
Birds and gardening go together like rednecks and NASCAR (no disrespect intended). The activity of one brings out thousands of the other. To me that's a good thing. I'm a great lover of wildlife as part of the landscape and do what I can to encourage it, especially birds. Recently my gardens were designated a "Certified Wildlife Habitat" by the National Wildlife Federation. Now, even more than before, I make a point to recognize what is happening in my yard as it pertains to wildlife.


Imagine my surprise and delight when on a chilly weekend morning I observed dozens of birds grazing through my garden simultaneously. I recognized four of the types right away. The dark-headed Steller's Jays were swooping into the crowd and out again before they picked momentary fights with each other. The Black-billed Magpies fed on the fringes and would glide majestically from one border to the other over the heads of the lesser birds. A solitary Northern Flicker woodpecker was poking his long beak into the soil as though it was the side of a tall pine. A pair of Mourning Doves bobbed in the grass walking side by side.

Initially I wasn't able to identify the birds that populated the majority of the flock. After an online search it appears that they were European Starlings. They waddled in a large group combing through the grass and twigs seeking out seeds. Their chunky bodies and short tails looked out of place among the more graceful blue and gray birds.

All of these birds and many others have fed on my seeds, berries, and insects before, but this was the first time I noticed so many different types feeding at the same time in the same place. They focused their attention beneath the forest of dried sunflowers, but spread out over the entire space of my vegetable garden. Apparently there are still many seeds sprinkled on the ground and they fed at the smorgasbord with no regard to the color of their neighbor. That by itself is a wonderful moral of the story.

My attention, however, was on the fact that at the end of November my garden is still providing sustenance for wildlife. I haven't hacked away any of my seed-bearing flowers or weeds. Some of the withered vegetables are still lying in the raised beds or on the paths between. There's little doubt that recent warm weather has allowed insects to remain active on the soil surface. All of this gives ample culinary opportunities to varieties of birds.

I found it intriguing that none of this great flock was feeding from the hanging feeder or bowl of seed resting scant feet away. On that morning they preferred to search at ground level. Maybe the insects were active, maybe the older seeds tasted better, maybe they needed the exercise. Whatever the reason, it was a marvelous sight.

That's what gardening and having habitats for wildlife is all about -- marveling at what you've created. All of those birds had other places they could have fed, but they chose my garden on that morning both individually and as a group. It was a place they felt was abundant and safe. I was enthralled by the experience so much that I didn't think to photograph it. I'll try to rectify that in the future.

What have you created for your birds? Gardens can be designed to attract specific species, like hummingbirds. They can also be designed to attract a myriad of species, as mine do. As you think about spring plantings and garden design for next year, I encourage you think about the birds. Add a flower or shrub or grass that will benefit an avian friend. It's easy to do and when you see the results you'll have those moments of wonder. It's another way to add variety and multi-season enjoyment to your garden.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Recycling As Art in Your Garden

My taste in garden art and structure can be eclectic. It's difficult for me to toss something in the trash when, with just a smidgen of imagination, it can be turned into art in the landscape; or at least what I may think of as art. Some gardeners put no sculptures or artsy objects in their gardens while others have a land awash in garden gnomes. I fall somewhere in between.

Always a frugal gardener, I prefer to recycle common household items rather than spend a small fortune on something from a garden center or store.

One of my favorite garden additions was the framework of a metal bunk bed I rescued at a garage sale. I buried the pieces in the ground and used them as trellises for peas, beans, and squash. The structures added variety and interest in the vegetable garden, in addition to doing a great job supporting the plants. For years I've been on the hunt for an old wooden ladder to put in the middle of my squash. I'm intrigued by the image of vines crawling up the rungs dropping the ripening squash between the outstretched legs.

This year I salvaged a glass light cover from a trash pile in the garage. The cover is no longer needed because the bulbs it protected were replaced by a ceiling fan with its own light. Rather than toss a beautiful object, I waited for the right opportunity. When I decided to begin a rock garden, the glass cover became a centerpiece. Turned upside down and filled with soil, it is a perfect resting place for a variety of sedum that will grow, fill it, and spill out onto the stones. It sparkles in the sun, adds character to a small garden section, and will become a conversation piece -- everything one would want in a piece of garden art.


Almost anything can be recycled for garden use. An old pair of my boots lies in the bed of hostas by the front door. They're filled with soil and over the years I've planted annuals in them. They stand as a reminder to me of years past and literally are a part of my life, in the garden. It adds character, my character, to my garden. Of the many items I've recycled, those boots have received the most comments and they have all been positive.

An old red wheelbarrow holds my cactus garden. It was the first wheelbarrow I bought many years ago and eventually wore out. Rather than banish the old workhorse to the dump, I gave it new life as a home for cacti. Those plants are unique in my garden and their "pot" is also unique. With a few holes drilled in the bottom and a specific blend of sand and rocks, it models the natural environment of the plants I chose for it. It too is a recycled object that brings a smile or smirk to the face of those who view it.

I saved an old green toilet bowl from a bathroom remodel a few years ago. I envisioned it resting alone in a corner of my perennial bed covered with ivy. To me the idea of a toilet giving life to plants was humorous and philosophically symbolic. My wife didn't agree and threatened bodily harm if she had to look at an old toilet in the backyard. Regretfully I honored her request and got rid of it, but it's still an idea I find promising.

I'm not advocating creating a junkpile and growing plants in it. Some things look trashy whether they are surrounded by green or not, but a little creativity can be fun for the gardener and the admirers. I have no current plans for new additions, but I always have my eye open for an opportunity. You never know when you'll stumble upon an item looking for a new home in your garden. I know that there's an abandoned ladder with my name on it in some garage somewhere and it wants to support my squash. How great is that?

 
My taste in garden art and structure can be eclectic. It's difficult for me to toss something in the trash when, with just a smidgen of imagination, it can be turned into art in the landscape; or at least what I may think of as art. Some gardeners put no sculptures or artsy objects in their gardens while others have a land awash in garden gnomes. I fall somewhere in between.

Always a frugal gardener, I prefer to recycle common household items rather than spend a small fortune on something from a garden center or store.

One of my favorite garden additions was the framework of a metal bunk bed I rescued at a garage sale. I buried the pieces in the ground and used them as trellises for peas, beans, and squash. The structures added variety and interest in the vegetable garden, in addition to doing a great job supporting the plants. For years I've been on the hunt for an old wooden ladder to put in the middle of my squash. I'm intrigued by the image of vines crawling up the rungs dropping the ripening squash between the outstretched legs.

This year I salvaged a glass light cover from a trash pile in the garage. The cover is no longer needed because the bulbs it protected were replaced by a ceiling fan with its own light. Rather than toss a beautiful object, I waited for the right opportunity. When I decided to begin a rock garden, the glass cover became a centerpiece. Turned upside down and filled with soil, it is a perfect resting place for a variety of sedum that will grow, fill it, and spill out onto the stones. It sparkles in the sun, adds character to a small garden section, and will become a conversation piece -- everything one would want in a piece of garden art.


Almost anything can be recycled for garden use. An old pair of my boots lies in the bed of hostas by the front door. They're filled with soil and over the years I've planted annuals in them. They stand as a reminder to me of years past and literally are a part of my life, in the garden. It adds character, my character, to my garden. Of the many items I've recycled, those boots have received the most comments and they have all been positive.

An old red wheelbarrow holds my cactus garden. It was the first wheelbarrow I bought many years ago and eventually wore out. Rather than banish the old workhorse to the dump, I gave it new life as a home for cacti. Those plants are unique in my garden and their "pot" is also unique. With a few holes drilled in the bottom and a specific blend of sand and rocks, it models the natural environment of the plants I chose for it. It too is a recycled object that brings a smile or smirk to the face of those who view it.

I saved an old green toilet bowl from a bathroom remodel a few years ago. I envisioned it resting alone in a corner of my perennial bed covered with ivy. To me the idea of a toilet giving life to plants was humorous and philosophically symbolic. My wife didn't agree and threatened bodily harm if she had to look at an old toilet in the backyard. Regretfully I honored her request and got rid of it, but it's still an idea I find promising.

I'm not advocating creating a junkpile and growing plants in it. Some things look trashy whether they are surrounded by green or not, but a little creativity can be fun for the gardener and the admirers. I have no current plans for new additions, but I always have my eye open for an opportunity. You never know when you'll stumble upon an item looking for a new home in your garden. I know that there's an abandoned ladder with my name on it in some garage somewhere and it wants to support my squash. How great is that?

 

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Fishing for Coffee

Compost is one of my favorite things about gardening. As an amendment, it works wonders as it improves soil and benefits plants. As a mulch, it benefits soil, plants, and insects. As a free factory sitting in a corner of your yard, it processes and recycles yard and kitchen waste, reducing the amount of trash you send to an already overcrowded landfill.

Almost anything organic can be composted. That's why I have a plastic bucket sitting on my kitchen counter to capture orange rinds, banana peels, egg shells, wilted lettuce, and all the other typical household refuse from breakfasts and dinners. When the bucket is full we dump it on the compost pile. As you might guess, it fills faster in the summer when we eat more fresh produce from the garden, grocery store, or farmers market, but that isn't the limit.

Composting can take place throughout the year. Though temperatures below 40 degrees will put the microorganisms responsible for decomposing to sleep, you can still put your organic collection on your pile. Mixed with leaves and other garden material from fall cleanup it's ready for the micro critters to eat when spring temperatures warm them up. With lots of work and attention you can keep your compost pile warm enough to maintain decomposition throughout the winter, but most of us don't want to take that effort when it's cold outside.

I try to keep the composting spirit alive through the cold months by maintaining the habit of putting scraps in the bucket and traipsing through the snow to dump it on the pile when it's full. During the colder months it may take two or three days to fill our bucket; we just don't eat as many fresh vegetables. I do know that it will contain some items that we use regularly: cucumber skins, lettuce heels, coffee grounds, my tea, banana peels.

Imagine my chagrin when I began to notice that the bucket was remaining nearly empty for days. Upon investigating I noticed an obvious absence of the morning coffee filter and grounds. It didn't take long to find the misplaced organics as I fished through the trash can beneath the sink. Oh, the horror of it.

The crime

It's true that composting and gardening are more important to me than to other members of my household. I know they humor me when I spend as much time as I do in the gardens. I do what I can to educate them about simple gardening activities, particularly composting. And I assume they understand it and have a similar sense of environmental awareness. But you know what happens when you "assume" that others will act a certain way.

Are coffee grounds in the trash truely a crime? Of course not. But imagine if all the coffee filters and grounds in your city, or state, or country were placed in a compost pile. Millions of pounds of coffee could become millions of pounds of compost. Starbucks gives their used grounds away for free because they know gardeners everywhere can benefit from them.

Now think about all of the banana peels and orange rinds and vegetable leftovers that get dumped in trashcans beneath kitchen sinks. Multiply the amount of organic material you dump by the millions of households that do the same and we're talking about a serious issue. San Francisco has a mandatory recycling and composting ordinance that is trying to reach zero waste by the year 2020. That's an amazing goal by a major U.S. city.

For now you can play a small yet important role in protecting our environment by composting waste that would otherwise find it's way into landfills or waterways. Be aware of materials that can be recycled naturally. Throw a bucket of kitchen scraps on a compost pile. And above all, don't discard those coffee grounds.
Compost is one of my favorite things about gardening. As an amendment, it works wonders as it improves soil and benefits plants. As a mulch, it benefits soil, plants, and insects. As a free factory sitting in a corner of your yard, it processes and recycles yard and kitchen waste, reducing the amount of trash you send to an already overcrowded landfill.

Almost anything organic can be composted. That's why I have a plastic bucket sitting on my kitchen counter to capture orange rinds, banana peels, egg shells, wilted lettuce, and all the other typical household refuse from breakfasts and dinners. When the bucket is full we dump it on the compost pile. As you might guess, it fills faster in the summer when we eat more fresh produce from the garden, grocery store, or farmers market, but that isn't the limit.

Composting can take place throughout the year. Though temperatures below 40 degrees will put the microorganisms responsible for decomposing to sleep, you can still put your organic collection on your pile. Mixed with leaves and other garden material from fall cleanup it's ready for the micro critters to eat when spring temperatures warm them up. With lots of work and attention you can keep your compost pile warm enough to maintain decomposition throughout the winter, but most of us don't want to take that effort when it's cold outside.

I try to keep the composting spirit alive through the cold months by maintaining the habit of putting scraps in the bucket and traipsing through the snow to dump it on the pile when it's full. During the colder months it may take two or three days to fill our bucket; we just don't eat as many fresh vegetables. I do know that it will contain some items that we use regularly: cucumber skins, lettuce heels, coffee grounds, my tea, banana peels.

Imagine my chagrin when I began to notice that the bucket was remaining nearly empty for days. Upon investigating I noticed an obvious absence of the morning coffee filter and grounds. It didn't take long to find the misplaced organics as I fished through the trash can beneath the sink. Oh, the horror of it.

The crime

It's true that composting and gardening are more important to me than to other members of my household. I know they humor me when I spend as much time as I do in the gardens. I do what I can to educate them about simple gardening activities, particularly composting. And I assume they understand it and have a similar sense of environmental awareness. But you know what happens when you "assume" that others will act a certain way.

Are coffee grounds in the trash truely a crime? Of course not. But imagine if all the coffee filters and grounds in your city, or state, or country were placed in a compost pile. Millions of pounds of coffee could become millions of pounds of compost.
Starbucks gives their used grounds away for free because they know gardeners everywhere can benefit from them.

Now think about all of the banana peels and orange rinds and vegetable leftovers that get dumped in trashcans beneath kitchen sinks. Multiply the amount of organic material you dump by the millions of households that do the same and we're talking about a serious issue. San Francisco has a mandatory recycling and composting ordinance that is trying to reach zero waste by the year 2020. That's an amazing goal by a major U.S. city.

For now you can play a small yet important role in protecting our environment by composting waste that would otherwise find it's way into landfills or waterways. Be aware of materials that can be recycled naturally. Throw a bucket of kitchen scraps on a compost pile. And above all, don't discard those coffee grounds.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

War of the Worlds in Your Garden

It amazes me how simple sights can trigger emotion and enhance the imagination. The garden abounds with images for the mind, especially after a season change. Today my wife commented how she loves the way the sunflowers look now. As I've blogged before, the sunflowers are her special place in the garden. The exploding golden colors, the gigantic faces turning toward the sun, the forest of shade from elephantine stalks.  Even as the moribund petals slowly faded, she focused her attention and pleasure on that section of the garden.

Today the color is gone. The seeds have been neatly cleaned by the birds. The fanning leaves are shriveled and torn. All that remains are darkened heads resting atop slender and sturdy towers. In the cold of morning with a glazing of frost, they obviously invoke a singular beauty for her. It's a unique garden presence that can't be duplicated during the fertility of summer.


Today the sunflowers make me think of the Martian invaders from the classic 1953 film, "The War of the Worlds". As Gene Barry hides in the basement, the metallic probe snakes through the darkness; he beheads it with an axe. The probes that sprout from the invading spacecraft shoot death rays and remind me of the vigilant sunflowers in my garden. It's an image that makes me smile.

Like my wife, I enjoy looking at the sunflowers, but, more importantly, I relish the entire garden during fall and winter. I think it's advantageous to plant with four seasons in mind. Flowers in full bloom attain the beauty many gardeners seek, but you can enjoy many other aspects of beauty as the year progresses. Miniature icicles sparkling in the winter sun as they drip from dried coneflowers are a wonder to behold. Delicate ice crystals that blanket apricot blossoms after a freezing fog in early spring are photograph-worthy even as they destroy the crop.


During fall, blowing leaves change the landscape as they catch on withering flowers, and bushes, and decorative grass. As the snow billows in, it rests upon the same leaves and plants as it sculpts the gardens into an ethereal museum of artistic wonder.

I'm all for cleaning up your garden and having it ready for spring planting, but delaying the clean up can add so much. There isn't much you can say about barren soil lying flat beneath the frost and snow. But the dead plants you were so quick to remove could have created a framework for the same frost and snow. The result may have been something to remember and treasure.

My sunflowers will remain on guard through the new year. Only after they've given us every conceivable viewpoint of weather and season will I remove them and plant a new crop. The same can be said for most of my plants. A garden doesn't need to be filled with color to be beautiful.
It amazes me how simple sights can trigger emotion and enhance the imagination. The garden abounds with images for the mind, especially after a season change. Today my wife commented how she loves the way the sunflowers look now. As I've blogged before, the sunflowers are her special place in the garden. The exploding golden colors, the gigantic faces turning toward the sun, the forest of shade from elephantine stalks.  Even as the moribund petals slowly faded, she focused her attention and pleasure on that section of the garden.

Today the color is gone. The seeds have been neatly cleaned by the birds. The fanning leaves are shriveled and torn. All that remains are darkened heads resting atop slender and sturdy towers. In the cold of morning with a glazing of frost, they obviously invoke a singular beauty for her. It's a unique garden presence that can't be duplicated during the fertility of summer.


Today the sunflowers make me think of the Martian invaders from the classic 1953 film, "The War of the Worlds". As Gene Barry hides in the basement, the metallic probe snakes through the darkness; he beheads it with an axe. The probes that sprout from the invading spacecraft shoot death rays and remind me of the vigilant sunflowers in my garden. It's an image that makes me smile.

Like my wife, I enjoy looking at the sunflowers, but, more importantly, I relish the entire garden during fall and winter. I think it's advantageous to plant with four seasons in mind. Flowers in full bloom attain the beauty many gardeners seek, but you can enjoy many other aspects of beauty as the year progresses. Miniature icicles sparkling in the winter sun as they drip from dried coneflowers are a wonder to behold. Delicate ice crystals that blanket apricot blossoms after a freezing fog in early spring are photograph-worthy even as they destroy the crop.


During fall, blowing leaves change the landscape as they catch on withering flowers, and bushes, and decorative grass. As the snow billows in, it rests upon the same leaves and plants as it sculpts the gardens into an ethereal museum of artistic wonder.

I'm all for cleaning up your garden and having it ready for spring planting, but delaying the clean up can add so much. There isn't much you can say about barren soil lying flat beneath the frost and snow. But the dead plants you were so quick to remove could have created a framework for the same frost and snow. The result may have been something to remember and treasure.

My sunflowers will remain on guard through the new year. Only after they've given us every conceivable viewpoint of weather and season will I remove them and plant a new crop. The same can be said for most of my plants. A garden doesn't need to be filled with color to be beautiful.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

What Season Is It?

Without looking at the calendar, imagine how difficult it would be for someone waking up from a coma to determine the month. We, and many parts of the country, have experienced unusually warm temperatures during October and November. Locally, many long-standing records fell. Also imagine how difficult it is for a plant to determine the month.

Trees and perennials have genetic coding to process their response to the seasons. It gets cold and days get shorter, must be time to drop leaves and go dormant. It warms up and is sunny, must be time to sprout spring growth. Plants don't have calendars; they react to the changing climate.

In the last two weeks we went from summer to winter. Though it is November, we were seeing 80 degree days. Then we rocketed through fall. Two days ago it was 70 degrees for a high temperature. Yesterday was 60, today will be 45, and tomorrow has a forecast high of 30 degrees. Thirty degrees as a high temperature! That's a change of 40 degrees within a three-day period. Throw in some snow and it's a drastic change for us and for plants.

Put yourself in the shoes of your plants, or rather, the roots. Colder temperatures and shorter days caused leaves to change color and growth to slow. Then a long period of warm weather interrupted the normal dormancy cycle. Some plants got confused. Della has a peony that began to show bud growth. My hardier herbs began growing new shoots. The sudden freezing temperatures and normal late-fall weather will wreak havoc on some of these plants.

Weather patterns that are atypical will often cause mass death. Plants that would normally be prepared for winter are still unprepared and will be caught by surprise with rapid changes. They may not die immediately, but after an unexpected (for them) winter, buds and tip growth may be compromised next spring. I lost a cherry tree to similar conditions a few years ago. The buds were fooled in the fall and froze in the winter; in the spring there was not enough leaf growth to sustain the tree and it died in the heat of summer.

Lucky for your plants, you can read a calendar and watch for weather forecasts. Look for unexpected bud or leaf growth. If you've had unusually warm weather in the fall and suddenly cold is coming, protect susceptible plants until they can make the transition. This may mean covering them with straw or a blanket. Do what you can to minimize extreme changes in temperature. After a few days of continual cold, the plants should get a clue and finish their winterizing process.

Even if a plant has lost its leaves the soil has remained warm and root growth has continued. When the soil freezes too quickly the new roots can be killed. If you still have bare soil, apply mulch. A thick layer of bark, leaves, straw, or rock will moderate the changing soil temperature and give the roots a little more time to acclimate.

Every year there are plants that don't make it through the winter. Gardeners often accept it as a normal expectation. If you go from shirtsleeves to a jacket overnight, it's a sudden change. By recognizing how the weather affects your plants, you may be able to save some that otherwise would have been lost.
Without looking at the calendar, imagine how difficult it would be for someone waking up from a coma to determine the month. We, and many parts of the country, have experienced unusually warm temperatures during October and November. Locally, many long-standing records fell. Also imagine how difficult it is for a plant to determine the month.

Trees and perennials have genetic coding to process their response to the seasons. It gets cold and days get shorter, must be time to drop leaves and go dormant. It warms up and is sunny, must be time to sprout spring growth. Plants don't have calendars; they react to the changing climate.

In the last two weeks we went from summer to winter. Though it is November, we were seeing 80 degree days. Then we rocketed through fall. Two days ago it was 70 degrees for a high temperature. Yesterday was 60, today will be 45, and tomorrow has a forecast high of 30 degrees. Thirty degrees as a high temperature! That's a change of 40 degrees within a three-day period. Throw in some snow and it's a drastic change for us and for plants.

Put yourself in the shoes of your plants, or rather, the roots. Colder temperatures and shorter days caused leaves to change color and growth to slow. Then a long period of warm weather interrupted the normal dormancy cycle. Some plants got confused. Della has a peony that began to show bud growth. My hardier herbs began growing new shoots. The sudden freezing temperatures and normal late-fall weather will wreak havoc on some of these plants.

Weather patterns that are atypical will often cause mass death. Plants that would normally be prepared for winter are still unprepared and will be caught by surprise with rapid changes. They may not die immediately, but after an unexpected (for them) winter, buds and tip growth may be compromised next spring. I lost a cherry tree to similar conditions a few years ago. The buds were fooled in the fall and froze in the winter; in the spring there was not enough leaf growth to sustain the tree and it died in the heat of summer.

Lucky for your plants, you can read a calendar and watch for weather forecasts. Look for unexpected bud or leaf growth. If you've had unusually warm weather in the fall and suddenly cold is coming, protect susceptible plants until they can make the transition. This may mean covering them with straw or a blanket. Do what you can to minimize extreme changes in temperature. After a few days of continual cold, the plants should get a clue and finish their winterizing process.

Even if a plant has lost its leaves the soil has remained warm and root growth has continued. When the soil freezes too quickly the new roots can be killed. If you still have bare soil, apply mulch. A thick layer of bark, leaves, straw, or rock will moderate the changing soil temperature and give the roots a little more time to acclimate.

Every year there are plants that don't make it through the winter. Gardeners often accept it as a normal expectation. If you go from shirtsleeves to a jacket overnight, it's a sudden change. By recognizing how the weather affects your plants, you may be able to save some that otherwise would have been lost.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Rock On

Mulch is a necessary part of almost every garden. Its benefits will improve the soil and your plants. Mulch helps moderate soil temperatures, making it cooler in summer and warmer in winter. It helps reduce loss of soil moisture through evaporation. It helps reduce soil erosion of wind and water. It reduces and minimizes soil compaction, one of the most common garden problems. It reduces the quantity of weeds and makes weeding easier. It can add to the aesthetic qualities in a garden.

I finished applying mulch to my new lavender garden. Lavender is native to the Mediterranean region and grows naturally in sunny, dry, rocky areas. Many people grow lavender and you may notice it planted as a border plant in beds where shredded bark is a common mulch used. The plants like a warm well-drained soil and detest damp soil and wet roots; more than cold weather, it is wet soil that kills most lavender. I'm worried that bark mulch might keep my soil too wet, so to help with drainage and to help keep the soil warm, I chose gravel mulch for my plants.

Basically, mulch is anything you apply to the soil surface to protect or improve it. Look around you and you'll see how nature does it:  pine needles mat beneath forest trees; leaves blow and gather around bushes and grasses; dead vegetation crumples into a decaying mass in perennial beds. You can also see how you and your neighbors do it:  bark chunks around trees; shredded rubber in playgrounds; crushed rock next to driveways.

There are two types of mulch, organic and inorganic. Organic is any natural material that was once growing and will eventually decompose. Bark, straw, leaves, grass, newspaper, and pine needles all are organic. Inorganic mulch is a man-made material or a mineral that won't decompose. Plastic, rubber, landscape fabric, and rock are inorganic.

Select the proper mulch for your garden and you will see the beneficial impact on plants. Select the wrong one and plants can suffer, along with you as you correct the problems.

My zone 5 garden is at an extreme for the plants. Our dry summers aren't a problem, but the winters are. Rock retains heat better than wood and during our cold and sunny winter the rock will help keep the soil a little warmer than another type of mulch. It will also radiate some of the heat to the plants, reducing the impact of severely cold nights. As the soil routinely freezes and thaws, the mulch will help moderate the swings in soil temperature.

I don't often recommend rock mulch because it's a fairly permanent addition. Other mulches can easily be raked away to plant new flowers, or grasses, or shrubs. Rock has no place in a vegetable garden that will be replanted every year. But for a perennial bed with plants that aren't going to be moved, rock mulch may be a good match, especially when the plant will benefit from it. Many plants native to arid regions can benefit from gravel on the soil. Agastache is a wonderful desert plant for butterflies and should be mulched exclusively with rock.

Visual attractiveness is another reason to choose rock. My lavender plants surround a flagstone patio I built for my daughter's wedding. The red rock gravel matches the flagstones and makes for an attractive border to the patio at the same time it works to benefit the plants. The sage green of the plants and vibrant purple of the flowers will blend well with the faded red of the patio and mulch.

Usually the best time to mulch is right after planting. Applying mulch to new plantings can give benefits right from the beginning, but you should delay it in the spring until the soil has begun to dry out. For plantings later in the season, you can wait until a frost to apply mulch. The freeze-thaw cycle in autumn can cause soil heaving and may thrust young plants out of the ground. The mulch will minimize that cycle's effects.

Unless you're planning to sterilize an area, stay away from plastic. It is common to see plastic beneath rock mulch. Plants in the area will be tortured because both water and oxygen will have a hard time making it to the roots. When you use rock mulch around plants, eliminate the plastic.

My lavender plants are very young and are facing a hard winter. I've done what I could to make that transition easier. We won't know until spring how successful it was, but I'm confident I chose the best solution.
Mulch is a necessary part of almost every garden. Its benefits will improve the soil and your plants. Mulch helps moderate soil temperatures, making it cooler in summer and warmer in winter. It helps reduce loss of soil moisture through evaporation. It helps reduce soil erosion of wind and water. It reduces and minimizes soil compaction, one of the most common garden problems. It reduces the quantity of weeds and makes weeding easier. It can add to the aesthetic qualities in a garden.

I finished applying mulch to my new lavender garden. Lavender is native to the Mediterranean region and grows naturally in sunny, dry, rocky areas. Many people grow lavender and you may notice it planted as a border plant in beds where shredded bark is a common mulch used. The plants like a warm well-drained soil and detest damp soil and wet roots; more than cold weather, it is wet soil that kills most lavender. I'm worried that bark mulch might keep my soil too wet, so to help with drainage and to help keep the soil warm, I chose gravel mulch for my plants.

Basically, mulch is anything you apply to the soil surface to protect or improve it. Look around you and you'll see how nature does it:  pine needles mat beneath forest trees; leaves blow and gather around bushes and grasses; dead vegetation crumples into a decaying mass in perennial beds. You can also see how you and your neighbors do it:  bark chunks around trees; shredded rubber in playgrounds; crushed rock next to driveways.

There are two types of mulch, organic and inorganic. Organic is any natural material that was once growing and will eventually decompose. Bark, straw, leaves, grass, newspaper, and pine needles all are organic. Inorganic mulch is a man-made material or a mineral that won't decompose. Plastic, rubber, landscape fabric, and rock are inorganic.

Select the proper mulch for your garden and you will see the beneficial impact on plants. Select the wrong one and plants can suffer, along with you as you correct the problems.

My zone 5 garden is at an extreme for the plants. Our dry summers aren't a problem, but the winters are. Rock retains heat better than wood and during our cold and sunny winter the rock will help keep the soil a little warmer than another type of mulch. It will also radiate some of the heat to the plants, reducing the impact of severely cold nights. As the soil routinely freezes and thaws, the mulch will help moderate the swings in soil temperature.

I don't often recommend rock mulch because it's a fairly permanent addition. Other mulches can easily be raked away to plant new flowers, or grasses, or shrubs. Rock has no place in a vegetable garden that will be replanted every year. But for a perennial bed with plants that aren't going to be moved, rock mulch may be a good match, especially when the plant will benefit from it. Many plants native to arid regions can benefit from gravel on the soil. Agastache is a wonderful desert plant for butterflies and should be mulched exclusively with rock.

Visual attractiveness is another reason to choose rock. My lavender plants surround a flagstone patio I built for my daughter's wedding. The red rock gravel matches the flagstones and makes for an attractive border to the patio at the same time it works to benefit the plants. The sage green of the plants and vibrant purple of the flowers will blend well with the faded red of the patio and mulch.

Usually the best time to mulch is right after planting. Applying mulch to new plantings can give benefits right from the beginning, but you should delay it in the spring until the soil has begun to dry out. For plantings later in the season, you can wait until a frost to apply mulch. The freeze-thaw cycle in autumn can cause soil heaving and may thrust young plants out of the ground. The mulch will minimize that cycle's effects.

Unless you're planning to sterilize an area, stay away from plastic. It is common to see plastic beneath rock mulch. Plants in the area will be tortured because both water and oxygen will have a hard time making it to the roots. When you use rock mulch around plants, eliminate the plastic.

My lavender plants are very young and are facing a hard winter. I've done what I could to make that transition easier. We won't know until spring how successful it was, but I'm confident I chose the best solution.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Not Sheep, Sherlock

There's a great new show this season as part of "Masterpiece Theater" on PBS. Based on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s master detective, "Sherlock" places Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson in present-day London. Even in modern times, the eccentric Sherlock can deduce multitudes of information from the smallest clues. It appears miraculous, but is a skill most people can learn. Gardeners regularly rely on deductive reasoning as part of normal activities.

Today I was forced to play the detective in my own backyard. Last week I noticed the tips of the raspberry canes were gone. Not shriveled from the cold weather, but sheared off. My first inclination was to think that birds were the culprits, pecking off the few berries that were forming. I wasn't planning to harvest the cold-damaged fruit, so wasn't very concerned by it. It was more of an anomoly that left me scratching my head.

A few days ago I noticed that the buds on the branch tips of the new cherry tree had been eaten off. Again, I briefly suspected birds, but also wondered if squirrels might be the pests. They'll eat tree buds for food, though that typically happens in winter. My biggest concern was for the tree. I have four-foot tall wire cages around them to keep the dogs and grandchildren away, but with the tree tips gone, future vertical growth will be hampered. The apple tree I planted this year showed similar damage too.

Yesterday I noticed a large section of bark was removed from an aspen tree within spitting distance of the fruit trees. The torn bark was a few feet off the ground and my first reaction was that a porcupine had moved through the area. I've seen porcupine damage before and from the window it showed the same traits. It isn't out of the question because one of our dogs was quilled in our back yard a number of years back.

Today I decided to take a closer look and try to deduce what happened. Students of deductive reasoning know that the simplest answer is usually the correct answer. My initial observations showed birds, squirrels, and a porcupine as the vandals. Upon further thought, it seems odd that three different species would suddenly attack my plants within the same period of days.

I originally discounted deer because we've never had a deer problem. They're in the area and we've seen them just down the road, but there has been no sign that they discovered the gardens. Flowers have always brightened the borders and the few remaining blooms are still evident; none are missing. Besides, our four dogs do a great job patrolling the property and keeping intruders away. Assuming a deer would brave the dogs, my thought is that the first food it would go for would be easy flowers.

Close examination of the injured aspen shows sections of bark ripped loose. The bark is torn with ragged edges. That's an important clue. Some animals chew bark and some animals rip bark. Beavers, squirrels, and porcupines are chewers, deer and bears are rippers. When bears rip off bark they usually leave claw marks; no claw marks evident on the aspen though there were some gouges. Deer will debark a tree to eat or from rubbing antlers in fall, leaving gouges from the antler tips.

Suddenly the clues are pointing strongly at a deer presence. Raspberry and tree tips are eaten and bark is torn or worn off. But what about the dogs and my presence in the gardens? Shouldn't deer still be scared away?

Enter the power of deduction and the "ah ha" moment. The weather has changed dramatically in recent weeks. Though the days are unseasonably warm, the nights are still cold. During the warm months we leave the dog door open and our four furry friends have free roam in and out during the days and nights. When the sun goes down on a frigid night, I close the dog door to keep warmth in. For the past few weeks, the dogs have been on a schedule of going out late in the evening and not going out again until morning. That's plenty of time for a marauding deer to do some damage.

With colder weather, food is becoming scarcer. Foraging deer look for tender food like young fruit trees. With few threats and ample opportunity, the smorgasbord in my back yard was waiting for a diner.

Like many problems in life, this is one I hoped would never happen to me. Many, if not most, of my gardener friends have a deer problem. It was a bit naive to think I could escape it. So now I have to think about deer deterrents and deer proofing and deer-resistant plants. Honestly, though I resisted it it's been in the back of my mind; when I planted a dozen lavender plants earlier this year I was pleased to see that they are deer resistant.

Not much will change in the near term. The deer are free to feed on the property through the winter. I'll try to protect the fruit trees from further damage and we have enough aspens that it's okay if we lose a few. Starting nest year I attack my gardening from a new angle. It will be done with deer in mind. I'll let you know how it transpires.
There's a great new show this season as part of "Masterpiece Theater" on PBS. Based on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s master detective, "Sherlock" places Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson in present-day London. Even in modern times, the eccentric Sherlock can deduce multitudes of information from the smallest clues. It appears miraculous, but is a skill most people can learn. Gardeners regularly rely on deductive reasoning as part of normal activities.

Today I was forced to play the detective in my own backyard. Last week I noticed the tips of the raspberry canes were gone. Not shriveled from the cold weather, but sheared off. My first inclination was to think that birds were the culprits, pecking off the few berries that were forming. I wasn't planning to harvest the cold-damaged fruit, so wasn't very concerned by it. It was more of an anomoly that left me scratching my head.

A few days ago I noticed that the buds on the branch tips of the new cherry tree had been eaten off. Again, I briefly suspected birds, but also wondered if squirrels might be the pests. They'll eat tree buds for food, though that typically happens in winter. My biggest concern was for the tree. I have four-foot tall wire cages around them to keep the dogs and grandchildren away, but with the tree tips gone, future vertical growth will be hampered. The apple tree I planted this year showed similar damage too.

Yesterday I noticed a large section of bark was removed from an aspen tree within spitting distance of the fruit trees. The torn bark was a few feet off the ground and my first reaction was that a porcupine had moved through the area. I've seen porcupine damage before and from the window it showed the same traits. It isn't out of the question because one of our dogs was quilled in our back yard a number of years back.

Today I decided to take a closer look and try to deduce what happened. Students of deductive reasoning know that the simplest answer is usually the correct answer. My initial observations showed birds, squirrels, and a porcupine as the vandals. Upon further thought, it seems odd that three different species would suddenly attack my plants within the same period of days.

I originally discounted deer because we've never had a deer problem. They're in the area and we've seen them just down the road, but there has been no sign that they discovered the gardens. Flowers have always brightened the borders and the few remaining blooms are still evident; none are missing. Besides, our four dogs do a great job patrolling the property and keeping intruders away. Assuming a deer would brave the dogs, my thought is that the first food it would go for would be easy flowers.

Close examination of the injured aspen shows sections of bark ripped loose. The bark is torn with ragged edges. That's an important clue. Some animals chew bark and some animals rip bark. Beavers, squirrels, and porcupines are chewers, deer and bears are rippers. When bears rip off bark they usually leave claw marks; no claw marks evident on the aspen though there were some gouges. Deer will debark a tree to eat or from rubbing antlers in fall, leaving gouges from the antler tips.

Suddenly the clues are pointing strongly at a deer presence. Raspberry and tree tips are eaten and bark is torn or worn off. But what about the dogs and my presence in the gardens? Shouldn't deer still be scared away?

Enter the power of deduction and the "ah ha" moment. The weather has changed dramatically in recent weeks. Though the days are unseasonably warm, the nights are still cold. During the warm months we leave the dog door open and our four furry friends have free roam in and out during the days and nights. When the sun goes down on a frigid night, I close the dog door to keep warmth in. For the past few weeks, the dogs have been on a schedule of going out late in the evening and not going out again until morning. That's plenty of time for a marauding deer to do some damage.

With colder weather, food is becoming scarcer. Foraging deer look for tender food like young fruit trees. With few threats and ample opportunity, the smorgasbord in my back yard was waiting for a diner.

Like many problems in life, this is one I hoped would never happen to me. Many, if not most, of my gardener friends have a deer problem. It was a bit naive to think I could escape it. So now I have to think about deer deterrents and deer proofing and deer-resistant plants. Honestly, though I resisted it it's been in the back of my mind; when I planted a dozen lavender plants earlier this year I was pleased to see that they are deer resistant.

Not much will change in the near term. The deer are free to feed on the property through the winter. I'll try to protect the fruit trees from further damage and we have enough aspens that it's okay if we lose a few. Starting nest year I attack my gardening from a new angle. It will be done with deer in mind. I'll let you know how it transpires.