Garden Gatherings From Treetops, Preparations in The Garden, The Home and The Heart for The Coming Winter

     “Spring forward, Fall backward” goes the old saying, and it felt wonderful to laze away the extra hour in bed this morning. My head told me I should use the extra hour to accomplish some of those things one puts off from day to day, but on glancing out the window it was such a gray day, trying hard to rain, and my heart said, better to stay in bed. There was a cool chill in the air upon getting up, and that is probably due to door being left open for the dogs to get out into the garden, which is fine during the summer, but November air brings with it a deepening chill, a dampness, and the door is finally closed on Summer.

     The sweet smell of burning leaves fills the air and the buzz of chain saws echoes across the valley. Grasses by the roadside take on a burnished gold, and chicory blossoms nod gaily to passing cars. This year’s chickens are just starting to lay, and there is nothing as wondrous as that first fresh brown egg, cradled softly in its bed of crisp golden straw. Our chickens presented us with six eggs, which isn’t too bad from 7 chickens, now the days are getting shorter.  I did let the ladies out, but they are finding their way through the meadow, up the hill and into the vegetable garden and although there really isn’t much left they can damage, they didn’t need to be encouraged to feed in that spot, so it must have given the neighbors a real treat to see an almost 60-year-old lady wielding a very large stick, chasing chickens helter skelter through the vegetable beds, back down the hill where they belong. In the canopy above our heads, squirrels chatter away, arguing over the choicest of pine cones that are dropping quite readily everywhere you turn.

     The rain has been holding off and the last three weeks have been sunny, and some parts of the garden are moist and others quite dry. I broke a lot of sweat trying to pull up the blackberry roots to make another long flower bed in the woodlot out back, but I foresee several days of heavy labor on that one. One cannot deny the beauty of the rose, and in the still of the grey autumn day, flowers are still blooming in the garden, and the “Double Delight” its creamy center outlined with ruby red, as if it had been quickly dipped into a ruby Port wine, lights up the grey day and permeates the air with its magnificent fruity scent. Together with a few salmon roses, scabiosa, and lemon colored dahlias, they form a bright bouquet for the desk in the office.     

     Here in Coos County, the Autumn celebrations continue, the Blackberry Festival, and the Cranberry Festival, once again bring a finality to summer.  It is now time to trim back the roses, but leave some to form hips so the plant can finish it’s cycle. One is encouraged to slash back all the dead growth and “tidy” up the garden for winter, but if you leave the standing flowers, with their seed heads intact, you will provide a smorgasbord for the birds, and one can just as easily clean up a little later in the season when all is crisp and frozen. Its time to spread on generous amounts of compost, shredded leaves, well-rotted manure, to replenish spent vegetable beds, pull weeds, rake leaves, cut back annuals and perennials, shred if possible, and turn them into the compost pile for spreading in spring.

     One should store away the winter squash with at least 2″ of stem in a cool dry preferably dark place. Delicata and Sweet Potato squash are the only ones we grow. The fruits must not touch, and air must circulate, and you will have fresh squash clear through January. Onions, shallots, and nuts should go in mesh bags or slotted crates and you mustn’t forget to check all produce regularly for signs of rot. There is nothing more comforting than rows of canned fruit, relishes and jellies on the shelves, bright orange and green globes of squash, boxes of trays of apples, and a freezer full of vegetables. We pull our tomatoes at the first sign of “late blight” and wrap each green globe halfway up in a sheet of newspaper (makes it easier to check for ripening, and store them in a cool dark place. The “keeper” varieties such as “Burpee Long Keeper” and “Keepsake Hybrid” will last longer, but any variety can be “put up” to ripen in this manner and you will have fresh tomatoes clear through Christmas.

     The holiday season takes us on its own journey into the past in a most poignant manner. With all the kids grown and gone, and the grand-kids far away, celebrating Christmas with just the two of us, there is a tendency to reflect on Christmases past more than Christmases present. Christmas growing up in the seaside town of Hunstanton, England, always meant a huge live tree in the assembly hall of the boarding school in which I lived. Mother was the principal and the school was also my home. It was decorated with “oh my gosh” small white, but very real candles. There was always the annual Christmas play, and afterwards the much anticipated Christmas party complete with “Father Christmas” and presents for every child. On Christmas day, there would be dates, and chocolates, and port wine in delicate crystal, silly paper hats which we all had to wear, and Christmas crackers for the table. This child would always get sick with excitement. Best of all, we never missed a performance of the Christmas pantomime in the Town Hall. Taking our seats as the violins plinked and plunked to get in tune, the low murmur of the audience would slowly settle down as the lights dimmed and the curtains went up. We would sit back in our plush seats ready to be enthralled with such musical extravaganzas as “Babes in the Wood,” “Cinderella,” or “Dick Whittington.” The latter was my favorite as Dick had a cat. These musical comedies would very loosely follow the plots of old nursery stories. Shows wherein the ”Dame” was played by a man, and the leading man, played by a woman. The players were usually drawn from local talent, and the whole show played for laughs.

     The way in which we choose to celebrate our Christmases, and likewise, the way we plan our gardens, is an attempt to recreate something indescribably intangible, pages from our childhood that in truth never really existed, and the fond memories we struggle so hard to relive and recreate, never quite materialize before they get once again lost in the complicated journey through life.

     During these upcoming holidays, take care and be sure to share!