Winter's essence in the garden

The essence of winter is in its shapes and its textures, in its stripped down bareness and honesty. It is in its monochromes and its contrasts, dark against light, warm hearth, frozen water. It is the slap to our senses as we inhale the sharp air or feel the icy hand of the wind push against us.

Winter has come to Alabama, with temperatures dropping into the teens this week. The sky on Sunday morning was cold blue, with rows of clouds marching forward, and the trees raised their dark branches to salute the day.

Walking through the garden, I was aware of some things I may have overlooked in another season. 

A large piece of driftwood has been in the yard since we moved here in 1985.  I like the curving shape of it, and I will miss it when it finally rots away.

I admired the colors of a rock, patterned with lichens.

A bird house in a dogwood tree awaits spring tenants. One summer this bird house had a green lizard as its occupant.

The dried heads of 'Limelight' hydrangea will provide winter interest until spring.

The peeling bark of Betula nigra, river birch is amazing.

Not everything is bare. There are many evergreens. I featured some of them in my post, Evergreens, the regents of winter. A few others, shown below, include:

upper left - 'Saybrook gold' spreading juniper. This beautiful plant is planted on a hillside to take advantage of its weeping branches. I love its golden color.

upper right - Spreading yew grows twice as wide as it is tall. It has deep green needles.

lower left - Osmanthus fragrans, tea olive, is a shrub growing to about ten feet. Even now its fragrant flowers are beginning to bloom. 

lower right -Autumn fern. This is a tough, evergreen fern, which survives with minimal care in the woodland garden. New growth has copper highlights, which gives it its name.

There is another evergreen that I don't own yet, but I have been looking for a place for one in my garden ever since last year when I visited Biltmore Estate in North Carolina. This weeping blue atlas cedar captured my heart with its form and color. A plant like this has to be put in the right place. This one is sited perfectly. It echos the curve of the tree limb above it, and the smaller plant below it echos that shape again. Notice, also, how the curve is repeated in the walkway and how the tree's blue color is repeated in the bench on the right. Fabulous!

Stay warm, everybody, and may you enjoy the essence of winter.  Deborah

How I spent my Christmas making mortar

Christmas at our house this year was a multiple day celebration, beginning with Christmas eve service at our church and ending the evening of the 26th. I felt a deep peace when family and friends came to our home to visit.

 A sunset on Christmas day offered a reflection on the special meaning of this season.

We spent Christmas day with our sons, and then my brother and assorted nephews and nieces and cousins and in-laws came the day after. I was in the kitchen early, peeling potatoes and chopping onions for potato salad. I also was preparing a cranberry salad, a great recipe I got from a fellow blogger, Villager. My family sends special thanks to him. Outside, frost covered the garden.

These knockout roses look like they are covered with a sugary glaze for Christmas.

The frost may kill these leaves, but oh, so sweet, the passing.

These nandina leaves will not be harmed by the frost.

The colors of the nandina are highlighted by an icy coating.

The variegated leaves and lily-of-the-valley flowers of Pieris japonica 'Cavatine' are lovely with winter frosting.

I watched as potato and onion skins piled up. When I was finished, I shoveled them into a stainless steel compost bucket under the kitchen sink. Soon orange, apple and banana peels were added. Then came used tea bags and coffee grounds.  As preparations for our big family meal were completed, I pushed to squash the contents of the compost pail so I could add new ingredients. The bucket was overflowing when I finally emptied it into the larger compost bin we keep behind the house near the vegetable garden. I was happy with the meal we had prepared, and I was happy with the good compost I had brewing behind my house. 

I have been re-reading an old David Bodanis book I own called The Secret Garden: Dawn to Dusk in the Astonishing Hidden World of the Garden. This book describes the incredible microscopic life that exists around us. I recently read a section that explains why compost is the best thing to enrich garden soil.

We hardly ever think about the billions of invisible creatures that live under our feet, but these microscopic critters promote good soil structure, enabling plant roots to grow and obtain nutrients. Basically, the soil dwellers live in underground cities made up of apartment buildings built of tiny clay bricks, and these subterranean dwellings give soil its texture. The bricks are held together by a gummy substance produced by decomposing dead bacteria. Without the mortar of dead bacteria, the apartment homes collapse and the soil becomes hard and compacted.

Compost is good for garden soil because its main ingredient is the gummy mortar used by earth dwellers to shore up the walls of their buildings and to prop open underground passageways. Uncomposted substances like fresh grass clippings are not so good, however, because they contain billions of living bacteria, which promptly go to war with the preexisting occupants of the soil. As the battle rages, nitrogen is burned up and heat radiates from the sweaty, hot warrior bacteria. Nearby plants may overheat and suffer from nitrogen deficiency. It's best to put those grass clippings in the compost pile, and let all the bacteria die off before putting them in the garden.

Ingredients in compost are termed "green" or "brown." Green substances are like those from my kitchen: fresh vegetable and fruit scraps, and also freshly pulled or cut plants from the garden. Brown substances are dried things, like aged grass clippings, shredded paper and dead leaves. The best combination is about four times as much brown as green. Do not put meat products in your compost, unless you want all sorts of critters rummaging through it.

Today I noticed that frost has finally killed the Boston fern in the lady garden. It is headed for the compost bin, where it will eventually turn into mortar to build underground cities.This photo was taken in November. The fern will be replaced next spring.

So, a gazillion bacteria are living and dying in my compost bin right now. Next time I open the bottom door and that rich black mortar mix pours out, I will think about them.

Happy New Year!