Making It Through the Winter

That cold snap that blew in the night of January 5, that was a thing. The afternoon before, it was raining and almost 50 degrees, and I knew it was time to act. I was sure I couldn't heat the greenhouse adequately through temperatures in the teens, much less the negative single digits. So out it all came, carried in relays into the downstairs bathroom and my studio. Because I wound up losing about two-thirds of my plants in the big freeze of November 24, it wasn't all that much trouble. Well, nothing is too much trouble where me and the plants I love are concerned. I sometimes catch myself working like a draft horse to keep these plants alive and wonder why I bother. Yes, I felt pretty ridiculous evacuating the greenhouse, but what was my choice?

So there they are (about half of them) luxuriating in the bathroom while it's zero degrees and below outside. You can just see the back side of the greenhouse through the window. Good news is the gas line didn't freeze this time. Bad news is the heater I have isn't big enough to keep the greenhouse warm in those conditions. It's a work in progress, this new greenhouse, and Mr. Murphy and his cruel law keeps close watch over all proceedings. A new leak in the roof rained down on my hundred-dollar freeze alert unit that I was so proud of, which ruined it and put our phones out for a week until I figured out what had happened. Nice. Hi-tech is great, until a raindrop hits it.

I kept them inside for a week, until the coldest weather blew through, which made the bathroom a pretty nice place to be. That gave me a chance to clean out the greenhouse, throw out all the dead plants and take the soil from their pots for recycling. It was time to get rid of the Shelves of Death, lined with row upon row of pots studded with stems that I finally admitted were not going to send out shoots. I became expert at checking for life in root and stem. I didn't find much. What lived, lived, and a lot of what lived wound up dying anyway.

So here, I'm focusing on what I do have. 

"Grossersorten," a rangy single pink geranium, lost a few leaves but never batted an eye. It's blooming now.

Next to it, an amaryllis that was a Christmas present from Elsa and Laura.

It wasted no time getting big and beautiful in the unaccustomed confines of the greenhouse. Usually amaryllis have to do their thing on kitchen tables. Clearly, it's getting just what it needed.

Another grand survivor, my 24-year-old Mammilaria cactus. It seemed to take the freeze as a challenge to throw out bigger and more beautiful blooms.

I lost my old Wonderboom fig bonsai, but this new recruit is doing beautifully and I've become quite fond of it.

Lots of new healthy growth, and no scale as yet.

This gardenia is taking its own sweet time, tantalizing me, dropping buds here and there just before they open, then making more. Arrggggh.

But two have finally opened and there is no better scent. 

What a grand plant. I hope I can keep her in the manner to which she'd become accustomed.

Acid, acid, acid, that's the soil they love. This one is f-f-f-fusssssy.

The jasmine is going nuts. Not fussy, and perfuming its space as specified in its job description. 

The fresh green leaves are so much more beautiful than the ones they had before the freeze. Jasmines hate getting very cold, and their leaves go yellow. These leaves have never felt the sting of cold.

I didn't see this little pot of Bellis perennis, or English daisy, on the floor of the greenhouse when I evacuated, and it froze solid in the cold snap. Only days later its dark-green translucent leaves had come back to life, and it was throwing out flowers! I dug these plants on the lawn of the Fayetteville WV courthouse a year and a half ago. Bellis perennis is a longtime European invader that establishes itself in some lawns. I haven't quite been able to figure out why it does well in some places and not others. As far as I can see, it does no harm, and I find it very beautiful.  I've been trying to establish it in our lawn for years. These are the best plants I've had yet. The beat goes on.

The same thing happened to these Buttercrunch lettuces. Froze translucent, then bounced back.

The dwarf pomegranate continues to delight me. I downsized its pot from the gallon container it was in, and once it's established will downsize it again as I train it as a tropical bonsai. Its flowers are opening, throwing out crepey petals and stamens, and I hope it will choose to form fruit. Gotta get in there and pollinate them, probably...

Speaking of pollination, I noticed that my grapefruit's flowers were falling off without forming fruit. So I schnoodled around in them with my pinky and played bee.

It worked--I probably have a dozen fruits now on a "tree" that's not even a foot tall. Whoops. Brood reduction is in order. That's it in the left-hand blue pot, below. Imagine it with a dozen full-sized grapefruit. Where's that Tilapia in Grapefruit sauce recipe, anyway? I might need it in a year or so.

Yep, things are happening in the greenhouse. It's got an aura of life again. I like going in. I find myself singing, "Hello Ladies!" when I do. I haven't yet taken to spending evenings down there. I still have a little PTSD about that, I think. Make that a lot.

I was most thrilled to see the first bud open on one of my stellar Graffiti geraniums that lived through the freeze. I was absolutely sure I'd lost the red one. I figured the pink one, which I wasn't all that crazy about, was the one that made it.  I got that plant on May 1, 2006, and I sure hated to lose it. I had a tiny cutting that I thought was the red one, and a big plant that somehow survived which I was sure was the pink. The tiny cutting died yesterday without rooting. And the same day, the big plant opened its flower.

When the bud opened, it was just the color of a scarlet tanager. I can't even describe how happy I was to know it had survived. It's such a good red, a brilliant, clear, happy, firepink red.

I always plant it out in a pot next to the Bird Spa, hoping to one day see this again. 

It happened June 22, 2009.

 It could happen again.

That's become a mantra this winter. It happened once. It could happen again. I won't say the mantra has gotten me through. Mantras may work for some people, but I need living things. The plants that lived through it all and came back, the new plants who've come to live and flourish here, my family (which includes Chet) and friends and love and running and the very occasional sunny day and that little church on the hilltop, that's what's gotten me through. 

The Kindness of Friends

More blessings, showering down. My dear friend Donna from Virginia ordered some fragrant, colorful, sexy plants to be sent to me from Logee's Greenhouse.  One is a South American vine called Angel of the Night, Randia ruziana, described by Logee's as

One of the sweetest, most intoxicatingly fragrant flowers we have ever found, the white 8” long, tubular flowers have a 5-pointed petal that naturally bends but when unfolded reaches 5-6” across. The fragrance is very long-lasting. We picked a flower and dried it on a piece of paper. The next morning, after the flower had been discarded, the fragrance lasted for days on the paper. Another bonus: this winter bloomer will flower for two months or more. To bring Randia into bloom you must allow the flower buds to form in late summer and early fall on the old wood; therefore, only prune once flowering is complete. This South American native has an open branching habit and can be grown under moderate light. 

Hey. That works for me!! Fragrance that lasts for days from the imprint of a single flower? Ho-KAY!! Good plant pickin' Donna!!
-

Here is Angel of the Night, newly arrived, with a little brindle Angel of the Morning for scale and cuteness.

The plants came in subfreezing temperatures, packed in Styrofoam with a chemical heat pack inside. 

In the same box was a hibiscus called The Path. It's a stunning yellow and red monster of a hibiscus, perfect in name and form. It's going to be a huge plant. I cannot wait.

Clearly, Chet Baker can wait. He's waiting anyway.

Randia (who lost some leaves to the too-hot heat pack, ironically) and The Path installed in the greenhouse, bringing it back to life...the freeze alert en garde.

Donna, you fill my heart. You're there every day for me and you send these fantastic plants on top of that. Weep. Thank you seems wholly inadequate, but it's what I've got.

But wait, there's more. A dear blog reader named Laura from California up and ordered me a gardenia. She told Jackson and Perkins she wanted one loaded with buds that would stink up the whole greenhouse. They obliged.

"Hi Julie. May this baby perfume the greenhouse hugely. Thanks for all that you give to the world."

Bawwwww!! 

I couldn't wait to open that box.

Got buds? Mmm hmmmm! Oh my gosh!

I assigned Chet to comfort the chilly gardenia, bring it back up to temperature before it went out to the steamy greenhouse. He obliged.

The plant was fairly shouting. HERE TO MAKE YOU HAPPY!!

IS IT WORKING??

 

Yes!!

YES!!

You betcha!! I promise to love, honor and obey every directive of these three plants as long as we both shall live. For they do speak to me and tell me what they need. And it is my great pleasure to try to satisfy them.

Thank you thank you thank you. 

My sweet neighbor Beth grew four dwarf pomegranates from seed, and she saved the prettiest one for me. I'd never heard of such a thing, never seen a pomegranate, much less a dwarf one. And it's in bloom!

I did a little reading and found out that dwarf pomegranates can get 8' tall, but that they also make excellent subjects for bonsai, having tiny leaves and a tendency to make a woody trunk. Not to mention the cool goldfish-shaped waxy flowers



one of which is now exploding with a crinkly tissue-paper fanfare of orange!

Making a tropical bonsai of this plant is a no-brainer for me.
Amazing how losing most of my plants has introduced me to even more kinds to love. And awakened me to the kindness of friends and neighbors, and people I don't even know who care anyway.

Now to finally decide what I want from Logee's with my gift certificate from Charles from Texas. Got a hibiscus! Got an Angel of the Night! Got a gardenia! That leaves...everything else. Weezy from Texas and Tim from Columbus widen the choices.

Delicious choices.

My friends, you make my life rich in so many ways. I'm humbled by your expressions of love.  Crystal wrote from New York to say that these greenhouse posts have made her decide to make her sunroom into a greenhouse. The thought that someone would decide to bring plants into her life and home because it sounds so nice here makes me warm all over.

And Donna. This photo taken the evening of December 18.  Hibiscus "The Path" has two tiny buds that get bigger every day. 

That little green light is the frost alert, on duty.

It's Looking Up in the GroanHouse

I have to admit I'm grasping at straws. Digging every unfurling leaf, every tiny bud, every promise of a blossom.

On a warm 65 degree rainy day I took pity on the ENORMOUS rosemary topiary I've been growing for I don't know...five years? and dragged it into my little selective Paradise.

I'd been planning, for the second autumn in a row, to sacrifice it to Cruel Winter.

Now, having seen it live through the 18 degree freeze that killed the Groanhouse, and outside, no less, I couldn't let it die.

I know I will be glad when I make Hodge's rosemary spiced pecans, rosemary pork roast, rosemary chicken, spaghetti sauce. I love fresh rosemary. I love running my hands up its oily flanks and filling the Groanhouse (yes, until everything is back full size, I've reverted to its original name) with its spicy aroma.

On December 13, I noticed that Rosemary is setting flower buds! Lots of them! They're the downy white masses at the growth tips.  It's not that common for rosemary to flower, but it has lovely curly blue two-lipped mintlike flowers.

Very happy to see Jasminum nitidum (Royal Jasmine) starting some teeny tiny flower buds. Now, just hold onto 'em, girl. There's been a lot of bud aborting in my groanhouse of late. Don't be doing that.

I got this plant at a greenhouse in WV the Monday after the big freeze. Jasmines like a cold period to set buds. The greenhouse this was in had to be in the 40's. The jasmines I got there are SO THRILLED to be in my care now. They're putting out tons of new shoots and setting buds in the warm humid space.

These buds have opened and filled the space with citrus blossom scent. Ruby Red Grapefruit. Wouldn't it be a hoot to have citrus fruit form here? To see huge pink grapefruit hanging from a foot-tall "tree?" How exactly does that work? I'd have to fashion some kind of bra for this tree to support full-sized grapefruit. It's a twig!

My friend Lori from Indiana sent me a babe off her giant variegated agave. A rare, beautiful and valuable plant. Symmetrical and leathery and lovely. She packed it in bubble wrap and sent it Priority in the three days that were in the 60's. Arrived in perfect shape. I expect to be giving its babies away in a few years. And my friend Betty from Claverack NY sent multicolored abutilon seeds from her plants, one parent of which is "Kristen's Pink." Growing those will be fun!

Little Christmas lights help with the floppy red poinsettia. They dignify it.

I would not be telling you the whole story if I did not show the Shelves of Death. The big pot in the middle is the only one with any life in it. Sigh. I lost so many plants...

To cheer on the one living shoot at the base of what was once my giant orange hibiscus, I planted some lobelias that survived the freeze. They'll bloom soon, and cover its knobby knees while the shoot grows.

I've been ordering plants online. Dumped $50 into mini and scented geraniums from Hobbs Farm in Maine. Of course, they'll have to wait until the temperatures between Maine and Ohio are well above freezing before they can pack the plants up and ship them. That could be awhile. I want them now, but I'm not getting them. I have a $40 gift certificate from Logee's from my friend Charles in Brownsville sitting here. I have the plants all picked out, but Logee's isn't going to send tender plants in 20 degree weather. Sigh. I want them now...

The Shelves of Life. Black Vesuvius, the red geranium on the left, never blinked. Just lived through it. 

 Ironically, I'd saved some cuttings of the heirloom geranium Occold Embers, which perished outright in the freeze. These were sitting in a glass of water on the kitchen windowsill. Not rooting. Just sitting there. So I dipped them in rooting hormone and put them in wet vermiculite and put a clear plastic drinking cup over them as a little humidor.
The blooming plant is patchouli. The leaves smell like hippies. I realize it's mostly about smell for me now.

All in all, coming along. Not there yet. But the blooming grapefruit and the poinsettias and the lights help.

And what really helps is my sweet friends who have swooped in once again to lift me up. Thank you all.

Tiny Shoots

Got-r-dun all by myself today. After the big greenhouse freeze, I decided to make sure it never happens again. I researched freeze alert devices online and finally ordered the Reliance THP201 PhoneAlert Home Warning System. I had really wanted something lo-tech that would ring a bell, but I couldn't find anything like that. I kept shying away from automatic dialers, but finally settled on this one. 

When the temperature inside the greenhouse hits 45, this little unit dials up to three different phone numbers and a recorded message says that everything you love is about to die again. Or something to that effect.

To hook it up, you need to plug it into an electrical outlet and run a phone line from the unit into your home phone jack. And though I had thought when I bought it that it would simply dial our home phone number, Bill told me that it can't do that because it's hooked into the same line. 

So I programmed it to dial our cellphones. That oughta work. All I have to do is leave my cellphone on where I can hear it ring on those supercold nights with big temperature differentials, which are the kind that tend to create gas line condensation problems that shut our gas off. 

Then I have to remember to sign out of Facebook so my friends don't message me all night. Blook. Blook. Blook. 

 So the task today was to run the 50' phone line I bought at Radio Shack from the greenhouse into our house.  I had found a handy-dandy cable hole near the downstairs bedroom and planned to make like a real electrician and run the line up over the patio windows and into that pre-made hole.
Except that I couldn't get the floppy phone line (light gray) to go through about 8" of wall and insulation. I thought for awhile, the way a chimpanzee sits next to a termite mound and thinks.

Then I went and got a long bamboo chopstick.

I securely taped the fragile plastic phonejack plug to the chopstick. The I used the chopstick as a needle and threaded that baby through all the insulation and wallboard and garbola in the wall. I was pretty happy with the elegance of that solution. I hooted like a chimp who'd found termites.

Speaking of insect pests, you will note a few ladybugs in this photo.

When I cleared the floor to make room for my work, I lifted a cardboard box and found this. Enough Asian multicolored ladybird beetles to make us all miserable for quite some time. Hello, Multitudes. I know you all want to spend the winter in a noisome cluster in the corner of this bedroom. However, you will not. Die, all of you.

A few swipes of the dustbuster later, I had emptied them out in the yard and danced a rapid tarantella atop them. None survived. I hate those things. So much. So, so much. I do not love every life form that crawls on the earth. Just almost every life form. I withdraw my universal love from insects with a foul stench and painful bite that get into my food, hair and nighttime water glass, that hibernate by the trillions in my house.

Phone line run, plugged in, armed and ready to rock. 

I programmed in the numbers, tested that the unit dialed them correctly, and left it there to do its very occasional but vital work. It's got a 9volt battery backup in the event of a power failure at the same time as a gas failure. It has happened. 

Behind the unit you will see what has become of my three baby orange hibiscus plants. Those tiny green shoots at the root will someday bloom. 

Here's what's going on with some of the geraniums, two weeks after the disaster. It's slow. Lord, it's slow, but it's heartening to see the green shoots of life begin to push out of the roots.

This was such a beautiful specimen of Frank Headley. Oh well. It's got a live part.

Happy Thought Pink. You can barely make out the one leaf peeking out at its base. The rest are lobelia seedlings. Yay. Still has pink petals dropped while in its glory. I'm glad this one still has life in it. Very hard plant to find.

Grafitti Pink, a stellar geranium, has some nice leaves coming. I have totally had to recalibrate my idea of beauty in this experience, to find the beauty in tiny unfurling leaves.

Rosina Read didn't lose all her leaves. She'll bounce back well.

My paddle plant Kalanchoe has a shoot, too. Three others died.

The crown of thorns needed to be cut back, I guess. It was about 3' tall, looked like an ocotillo. Loved that too.

Salvia guaranitica "Black and Blue" barely felt the frost. 

The day after I took this photo, my brand new Christmas cactus dropped ALL ITS BUDS. Oh, come ON. You can't keep your dang buds?? I'll stick with my darling 23 year old Mammilaria cactus which blooms all the time and laughs at frost. Christmas cactus isn't a cactus, anyway. 

I've been watching these pink grapefruit blossoms swell and swell and elongate...

and I started kind of squeezing them...

until I could catch a whiff of citrus flower through the seams of the buds

and finally finally they started opening yesterday afternoon. At the moment I discovered one had opened, a hermit thrush started to sing in the woods nearby. Ohhh.

And for the first time I stepped into the greenhouse this morning early and it smelled like it should. Fragrant. Almost like it was before the freeze. 

It's still better at night, though. Night lighting is kinder to tired faces and recovering plant stubs.