It’s finally here. As a gardener, I can procrastinate with the best of ‘em when it comes to putting things ready for the coming winter. Or maybe it’s just a denial of the inevitable. As I think about it, I’m not really sure which. But whichever one, there comes a point when reality hits hard. It’s called the freezing point and it hits rock-solid icy-cold hard. No avoiding THAT deadline.
Sooo... Yet again, I end up running around, covering up tender fuchsias with winter duvets of fluffy pine-straw, planting odd plants I should have planted months ago. Some others are heeled in behind planters and bushes because I want to keep them potted and small for a bonsai project next yet. The fuchsias have been divided, the sheep from the goats, and the sheep tossed into the compost. Goats are hardier. And cuter, too.
After a couple of days of having gotten the move on it, I look at the piles of work done. And smile. The fountain’s been drained and wrapped. The hose and water timer disconnected and put away. The Tsuga canadensis ‘Gentsch’s White has even been strung with lights. I smile again, thinking of the festive sparkle they’ll soon make. Of course, it’s only a couple of days later, after the icy hammer has hit and there’s been a magical dusting of the first snow of the season, that I discover the three little plants I had intended to save, lost in the whirl and huddled to no effect behind a stack of re-usable plastic pots I was also intending to save for the spring. Sigh.
