Tag: winter

Officially Sick of Winter

We all have those moments, don’t we?  One storm too many and we’re pushed over the top.  Here in New England, you’d think we’d be used to it, but no.  This past week, almost two feet of snow, with almost three feet closer to our seacoast extremities – “the Cape and the Islands.”  (For those from away, that’s Cape Cod, Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard.) Howling winds.  The lights flickering from time to time. And worse, the cable going out during Bridgerton.

Not exactly my expectation as we head into March.  A major storm – what’s called a “Nor’easter” in New England, buried us earlier, and yet, in nature’s cruelty, it’s snowing again  – that thin, steady downward drift of frozen precipitation that doesn’t bode well for my going outside. In fact, I called to cancel another medical treatment because it’s twenty miles away, and the streets are already snow-covered.  Cowardly, perhaps!

I went over to the hardware store across the street yesterday, and while at the self-checkout, I saw the lovely lady that runs their garden center.  She smiled and said that they were opening the first week of April.  Although it’s a warming thought, I’m not betting on it.  I then stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things.  The sun was shining, and I remarked about it.  The young lady bagging my things gave me a “shush”, and told me that Mother Nature was listening.  She’s right of course.  Retribution for the sun will come swiftly and without mercy in a day or two, or possibly by afternoon.

In full disclosure, if some of this sounds just a teensy bit familiar, that’s because I’ve stolen bits and pieces from a few years ago.  It still holds true, though, so I make no apologies. Ok, Ye Gods of Nature, it’s time for you to set down for yourself some seasonal guidelines, like people do with clothing.  I’m getting sick of flannel shirts and heavy sweatshirts inside, while outside, parkas, puffy vests and boots. I’m ready to shift to my Spring caps and light jackets. Now you need to give us some weather that’s above freezing.  You need to show us that global warming isn’t just the ice cap in the arctic and polar bears looking forlorn. We’re approaching that critical point where, as my wife tells me, we’re leaving “winter white” behind for, well, regular white.  I will say that many people I see out and about, particularly the young ones, have no clue what to wear and when.  I see shorts, flip-flops, and tee shirts even on the coldest days, and they seem totally oblivious to the outside weather. Don’t these people feel the cold?  I do, even when it’s 65 inside and my wife tells me it’s “awfully hot in here.” It shouldn’t matter what is happening outside, when we start transitioning to spring attire, the weather is expected to act accordingly. Years ago, when I was teaching, a young lady informed me that the school building was too cold for her – this in mid-winter, mind you – because she was from a tropical climate, and used to much warmer weather.  I smiled and suggested, with my trademark warmth, that as she was now in New England, perhaps she might consider dressing a bit more warmly.  Clearly, the tank tops alone wouldn’t do.  That’s the delightful perspective of youth – expecting the climate or the school’s heating system to adjust to their dictates of fashion.  

We’re clearly moving into spring, and by rights, I should be planning my spring plantings, pouring over the spring gardening magazines, looking at the newest hybrid plants and this coming year’s colors, all while waiting not too patiently for the spring bulbs to emerge in all their glory.  Instead, I’m still looking at piles of snow resembling the Rockies, and thinking that maybe Florida might not be so bad.  (On reflection, yes, it is.) I saw a rabbit out front the other day searching in vain for something to eat.  Perhaps I should have thrown it a carrot. And the only consolation is that large swaths of the South are no better off than we are.  In truth, their “freezing” is our “rather balmy”, for us a “no gloves” day. I don’t expect any significant growth or bright blossoms yet, and I don’t even expect a photographer from “Fine Gardening” to swing by, asking to set up a photo shoot.  But I want to get started getting initial debris cleared away so it looks a little less like the neglected home in the neighborhood.  You know the one – you drive down the street and it jumps out at you from among the other groomed and manicured properties.  Definitely past the stage where I track ice-melt in the back door. We’re in renewal mode here.  And my houseplants are looking despairing for two days of consecutive sunshine coming through the windows.  At the very least, a couple of days of “partly cloudy.”

Remember in November and December how we had that giddy anticipation of the first snowfall?  Will we have a “white” Christmas?  We checked to make sure the shovels were ready, and the snowblower would start.  We checked the supplies of ice melt.  And then, to our delight, it came.  But now, as those first snowflakes drift down, we think, “oh, crap”.  When the local meteorologist utters those dreaded words, “We have a storm warning in effect for . . . .”, an uncontrollable urge to hit the mute button ensues.  I can’t even watch when they tell us how many inches, or feet we’ll get.  Yes, it’s unbearable.

As I review the efforts of President Trump to take over Greenland, and the natives’ stubborn resistance to his plans, a tiny part of me wonders, why?  Yes, it’s strategic and mineral-rich, but it’s also cold.  Very cold.  For much of the year.  I think, though, he’s using the wrong bait.  If he told them he’d do a swap – Greenland for, say, South Carolina.  Lots of nice coastal homes and beaches – Myrtle Beach, Hilton Head.  Or, if they’d prefer, beautiful mountain areas in the west. Warmth, sun, golf courses. We’d have to move some South Carolinians out, of course, and make Danish the official state language, but that’s the price you pay if you want something.  Yes, we just have to show the Greenlanders a few brochures and we’d have a deal.  In your face, Vladimir Putin. Here’s how you do a land deal. Once again, however, I’ve managed to stray off topic.

So, working in partnership with Mother Nature, fossil fuels, and climate change, let’s get our seasons in New England organized, shall we? Winter is winter.  There will be periods of cold weather and snow, with just enough warming to keep us from going crazy.  My preference would be that it should not begin until early December so we have a Currier and Ives look for the holidays.  Spring should begin in mid to late March, and start to seriously bud in April, with signs of green on the trees and bulbs sprouting.  Is that too much to ask?  If we really, really need to have hot weather, it’s restricted to a week or two in July, then mid-70’s to no more than 80 until Labor Day.  None of this hot sticky stuff unless you’re, well, in Florida, where they and the reptiles are used to it. We also have a constitutional right to a pleasant fall with bright foliage and just a hint of crispness in the air beginning in late October, just in time for pumpkin spice lattes.  I think a well-ordered seasonal rotation is just the ticket to preserving that warm friendliness for which New Englanders are so well known.  Or possibly . . . .

Continue reading “Officially Sick of Winter”

Things You Shouldn’t Have to Tell People

Yes, I know.  We tell people over and over, and yet . . . . they still don’t get it.  They think they’re just a bit smarter than the experts.  They have an edge when it comes to background and knowledge.  Like Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. and vaccines.  Sometimes, you can tell people and tell people, and they just don’t understand. The other night on the news, there was a video clip of a small child falling out of a moving car on a busy street.  How does that happen?  No car seat?  Seatbelts are optional?  Here’s a brief compendium of advice that, really, we shouldn’t have to enumerate, but we do.

Travelling abroad.  You are an American, and you’re hoping to travel abroad.  To answer your question, yes, the State Department issues warnings for places that Americans more than likely won’t be received hospitably.  Like Russia, even if you’re a women’s basketball player.  We don’t care how much you’re being paid to play there, if we have to have a prisoner exchange to get you back, you really should have stayed home.  Or you’re visiting the Korean peninsula and you make the thought-provoking choice to sneak across the border into the North.  A few years ago, there was a news item about a trio of American young men that liked climbing mountains.  They made the unfortunate choice to scale some slopes on the border of Iran.  Even more unfortunate was their capture by Iranian security forces.  Should we really have to have our dedicated folks in the State Department spending their time and energy trying to extract Americans from places where they should not have been in the first place?  Where common sense would tell us . .? Isn’t there a little voice in their head that says, GAZA – Don’t Go There?   And yet . . . . .

Medications and Medical Care.   I’m often amused by the commercial warning:  “Tell your doctor about all the medications you’re taking.”  Are people self-prescribing medications about which they know little?  Are people watching medication commercials and thinking, “I might have that.  I think I’ll try . . . .”   And yet, some must be doing that, and hence, the disclaimer.  Now, it may just be me, but I tend to rely on my doctor’s advice when it comes to my conditions and treatments.  I tell him what’s wrong, he does some testing, and then he recommends what I need to take.  A representative from a health care provider will call to advise me to get “regular check-ups”.  Or even better, they’re going to send me a packet of papers to fill out.  No, thank you. I check with my doctor every six months, or sooner if something untoward pops up.  Sadly, with cuts to health care premium subsidies, perhaps there will be many, millions in fact, that may not be able to do this.  And, while we’re on the subject, a round of applause and a shout out to all those folks who decided not to vaccinate themselves and their children.  The recent spikes in flu, measles and other cases of highly contagious diseases are directly attributable to your “dark web” sources and the power of misinformation.  Well done!

On the Road in Bad Weather.  Can someone tell me why, when the news crew is interviewing people driving snowplows, there are numerous drivers on the road, generally getting in the way?  There have been warnings from television anchors, meteorologists, civic leaders, all the way down to the casual observer like me looking out the window, telling these folks to stay home.  And yet. . . . . We had a doozy recently – almost two feet of snow and, before the crews had had a chance to clean out and clean up, my neighbors, who are delightful people and both in retirement, were out and about. We get regular messages from our property manager reminding folks to move their cars so that snow removal on roadways and driveways can be done.  And yet again, . . . . .  we see snow-covered cars in driveways while their owners complain on Facebook that their driveway was late being cleared. We see on the nightly news, pictures of highways in the Midwest, the Northeast, even lately in the South, where cars are off the road and into a ditch.  Large pileups.  Folks that figured driving their usual excessive speeds might be too much, so they cut it back to 60 mph on snow-covered highways in blinding white-out conditions.  Very sensible, people.  If you’d just stayed off the road, your car wouldn’t be headed to a crusher and your insurance company considering you an added risk.  

Please, Please, Please Take Down your Christmas Decorations. I was driving home from a medical appointment the other day, and as I drove through a largely residential area, there it was.  Waving to me.  I gigantic inflatable Santa.  My faithful readers know how I feel about outdoor inflatable decorations anyway. Yes, there should be 5,000% tariffs on them, along with severe fines for displaying them.  These are the visual equivalents of “disturbing the peace”.  I will concede that it’s nice to enjoy the holiday season, which now begins on Columbus Day weekend and completely overshadows Thanksgiving.  In the near future, every turkey will come with a red bow and sprig of holly.  For any of us sensible people, those of us displaying a wreath or two, perhaps a tasteful swag on the door, the joy of Christmas has run its course by the time we’re watching the Tournament of Roses Parade.  And the light displays too.  What’s with that waste of electricity?  At any number of houses I see, they are too lazy to take down the lights before and after, so you see strings of lights dangling from the rafters year-round.  Now, it seems, they’re even too lazy to turn them off.  So, I don’t want to hear anyone complaining about the high cost of energy.  If we shut off all the Christmas lights in March, we’d cut electric consumption in half. There’s a tradition in our house – if the tree and other festive trappings of the holiday aren’t down and packed away on New Year’s Day, somebody please call 911 because we’re probably dead.  

Dress Warmly in Winter.  Should we really have to say this?  At the grocery store the other day, a woman had her small child in a cart going across the parking lot to her car.  The child – maybe 18 months to 2 years, was in a t-shirt.  No hat, no mittens, no boots, just socks.  I gave her my look of stern disapproval, just short of my “band director” look, but beyond that, I couldn’t do much.  As my father used to say, “what she lacked in intelligence, she more than made up for in stupidity.”  For the record, might I suggest, and again, this goes without saying, shorts and t-shirts won’t keep you warm in a New England winter.  Snow and sneakers don’t really work well together, and sandals even less so.  

Every so often, we’ll read reports of someone that had to be rescued from a wilderness area, a mountain, or some other remote location.  They were hiking, and not prepared for the blizzard that was coming their way, that had been predicted for days.  So, while I shouldn’t have to tell people this, Mount Washington gets just a bit chilly, sometimes a little blustery, and gets the odd bit of snow and ice this time of year.  And there are so many other things we shouldn’t have to tell people.  If you’re getting older, have had three hip replacements and still live in your three-story house, it probably won’t end well for you.  If you’re feeling lousy, have a persistent cough and runny nose, don’t go out and share that joy with others.  Stay home and use a delivery service.  If you didn’t save any of your tax receipts or other documents, don’t expect the IRS to be sympathetic and understanding.  And finally, if you walk around with a constant frown or scowl on your face, don’t complain on social media about how unfriendly people have become. 

Warmest regards (and dress warmly) on a chilly day!

Emerging from Winter

We’re enjoying the first prolonged stretch of warm weather.  Earlier ones were a tease, because then it got cold again. Today is the first day that I haven’t turned up the heat as I got up, and we slept with a window open in the bedroom.  There was a bunny, a small one, sniffing around my gardens out front – it kept its back to me, guilty no doubt because the minute my new bulbs start to sprout, he/she/they will be waiting.  I was looking out back too, yesterday morning, and saw a possum emerging from the swampy area behind the house, what we call the “dell”.  Admittedly, we watch a lot of UK television.  

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Winter is Back – with a Vengeance

Six plus inches of wet, heavy snow that started yesterday as rain, then to sleet, and now . . . . .well.  Howling winds.  The lights are flickering from time to time. Not exactly my expectation for the week after Easter, what with spring bulbs were coming up nicely and everything was starting to sprout.  I’d bought some very nice daffodils bulbs, and they were at that expectant, pre-blossom stage.  I ran out yesterday and covered them up before the wintery mix arrived, after running to the grocery store, as was everyone in the region, to buy some things to last us for a few days.  And cancelled Her Ladyship’s appointment because there was no way we were going out.  I didn’t even win the big lottery jackpot last night, which would have gone a long way toward mitigating the blustery, beastly weather.  

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The “Hit-Or-Miss” Garden

It’s that time again when compulsive gardeners begin to think of spring, the approaching warm weather and the growing seasons.  “No, it’s not too soon” I snap at those, particularly the Princess, our daughter, whose enthusiasm for plants ranks just below her interest in auto mechanics.  I’ve taken my houseplants about as far as I can, moving them about and rearranging until, well, there’s only so much space. So, I’ve begun again to research various plantings, what should go where, what will get enough light, what does best in certain soils, that sort of thing that gardeners do.  And so much is based on old-fashioned dumb luck.

I may have mentioned before that I’m a great fan and follower of the English broadcast, “Gardener’s World.”  Host Monty Don is truly an expert, and it’s fascinating to see what he does each year, and how he does it.  Of course, the show features many other features too – visits to outstanding estate gardens, the major British garden shows, interviews with nurseries and large-scale growers.  It also features individuals that have created wonderful “plots”, community gardens with assigned spots, along with truly magnificent gardens that some inventive gardeners have built on patches the size of a bathroom.  They’re always inspirational, but often, I share their inspiration but lack their energy.  So, I tinker with what I have.  A few bulbs here, a container there until something satisfying emerges. Each year, a new adventure.

There is a trend on Monty’s acreage to give names to gardens.  There’s a lot of that in Britain.  A significant number of homes have names – “Honeysuckle Cottage”, for example.  On continental Europe, only the large estates have names, but not in England.  Our dear friend, Lady Peacock, resides at Teale Cottage.  In fairness, I gave it that name, because her decorative accents favor teals and blues, but still, it fits.  Monty, though, has names for his gardens, which I rather like.  It makes it simpler for him on broadcasts to refer to the “jewel” garden, the “writing” garden, and the “cottage” garden.  We, his followers, will know exactly to which area he’s referring. My gardens, much more limited because, well, we’re in a condominium, will of course be much less regal, deriving their names from the location, shape, and what survives. Here are a few thoughts I have on naming mine, should I ever have a tv show.

The ”Bunny Feed” garden.  This area, containing varieties of plants that the wild bunnies, and there seem to be dozens of them, like to eat. This is a constantly evolving garden, because what’s here today will be gone tomorrow, chewed down to the ground.  I’ve even been at the kitchen window watching a bunny or two unselfconsciously munching away on asters, ground phlox, and corn flowers.  My readers, I know, will respond with helpful suggestions – spray them with animal deterrents, or plant something with a scent to drive them away.  Been there, done that. I remember one year I bought some “coyote urine” to spread.  The Princess was thoroughly appalled at just the thought, telling me it better not be her inheritance paying for it.  Anyway, it worked for a while until a family of woodchucks (that’s groundhogs to non-New Englanders) weren’t fooled, realizing there were no coyotes for miles.  My trips to the local nurseries, where I ask for anything the bunnies won’t like, are met with shaking heads and fateful smiles. 

The ”Transition” garden.  This is out front, and runs along the walkway to our neighbors.  A large privacy fence was removed last fall, so it now gets a fair bit more sunlight.  Great, an opportunity!  This was originally going to be the “Spring” garden, with azaleas and peonies, but I started putting in daylilies, and they’ve done pretty well, along with assorted hostas and lavender as filler.  Don’t know what the hostas will make of the increased sunlight.  I’ll have to get them little hats and sunglasses.  There is one peach tree that I bought at the grocery store a few years ago.  This was going to be the “Peach Orchard”, but I still have just the one.  It started as a sapling, but now it’s shot up to, oh, gosh, four or five feet. It blossoms whimsically, which doesn’t bode well for a fruit stand or peach cobbler.

Out front at the start of the walkway, I’ve found that coreopsis has been working well.  I’ll call that the “Welcome” garden, because it’s the first thing you see when you pull up outside.  The coreopsis is colorful, and it doesn’t seem to get eaten, so, along with a few scattered sedums, I’ll leave it alone to sink or swim on nature’s whim.  Next to that is the “Container Terrace”, a brick terrace installed by our predecessor.  I envisioned this as a mini version of Hotel Portofino, one of those beautiful, European showplaces of color and joy.  I was going to put a bistro set of table and chairs there, where I’d enjoy my morning coffee and newspaper in the dappled sunlight, but Her Ladyship shut down that dream.  So, it’s a concrete bench and multiple containers.  It is attractive, though.  I got wonderful feedback from a gentleman delivering Chinese food one night, so it’s not without powerful impact.  

Out back is what was supposed to be my “Rose” garden.  A mixture of tea and sweetheart roses.  But with an eye toward diversity, I put in a beach rose, which has totally taken over, overwhelming everything else.  This spring, I’ll have to cut it down and dig it out, starting again.  Another investment from the Princess’s inheritance.  That back area has become “invasive” central.  I’m happy to report that the bittersweet, the wild grapes, and the poison ivy are all thriving.  In fact, they’re all conspiring to kill a lilac bush that’s been there for years, along with many of the trees.  Even the huge pines have bittersweet hanging from them.  I’ve cut it down numerous times, but it’s a survivor.  Maybe I’ll call this area my “invasive species” garden. Behind the garage is a small patch where goldenrod is doing remarkably well.  I know that many gardeners consider this a viable and valuable contributor to meadow gardens.  As I’m allergic to it when it comes into full flower in August, I call this the “Tissue Box” garden. Or maybe the “Sneezing” garden.

Scattered around the back deck are “Hidden” gardens – little pockets of things I’ve put in with the hope they’ll survive.  Many have.  One holly bush has become several.  The closest thing I have to a cottage garden features a backdrop of more holly, along with some beebalm and daisies.  My predecessor put in pachysandra, which as we all know, now, looks lovely but takes over everything in an impenetrable groundcover.  The beebalm and daisies have managed, year after year, to poke their heads through and blossom.  This is my “Persistence” garden.  Yes, I’ve put in other things, but none survive.  Some year, if I’m really ambitious, I’ll dig out the groundcover and try again with something more.  

So, here is my philosophy of gardening, and I’m pleased to note that Monty is sometimes in the same boat. We try what works, and when it doesn’t, or it’s rather disappointing, we move it or toss it.  I’m truly not terribly heartbroken if something in the garden doesn’t survive.  A gardener must be willing to try and try again.  It’s an ever-changing vista anyway, even with something that’s fairly reliable.  Perhaps that’s why I enjoy it. There’s always something to do, something new to try.  Hit-or-miss.  That’s me.

Keeping a Sunny Outlook

Yes, I know.  We’re into the “bleak mid-winter”.  I step out the door, and my nose and hands immediately yell at me, “Quick – get back inside”.  The weather is alternating a few hours of sun, followed by clouds, then periods of snow or freezing rain.  The wind comes up and rattles the windows. The Super Bowl is coming up, and our beloved Patriots didn’t even make the playoffs.  Nothing new really in Red Sox nation either, although it will pick up and we just know that they’ll be a contender next year.  My gardens are covered in snow, but I know that underneath all that dormancy, there is beauty just waiting patiently for the warm weather to come back.  The election cycle and the primaries are heating up, but I just know that the country will come to its senses and elect someone I like.  Or at least one that I don’t think will be in jail by November. 

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