Triumph and Disaster

Every spring I am pleased to hear the dawn chorus of birds and amazed when things start growing in my garden, particularly after a very cold and/or snowy winter. This year, "winter" seemed to concentrate itself in the month of March. But even now, in April, it has been colder than average here in New Jersey.

Glory of the snow, April 2018 (Margo D. Beller)

Still, no matter the year my first reaction in spring is usually the same: "Wow! Look who's here! You survived!"

First come the crocuses and the snowdrop. Both bloomed when they were supposed to, in late February, as the first daffodil shoots started coming up during some unusual warmth. Then came the March cold and four nor'easters, the second dumping 20 or so inches of the white stuff. But the snow melted and these flowers re-appeared and continued to bloom.

Then came the glory-of-the-snow, a small blue flower with a white center I planted in one part of the garden years ago and then moved, only to forget where I put it until it suddenly showed up. It does so every April.

Another surprise: Last year I bought a peony root and put it in a large pot. It did not do very well. I left it in the pot for most of the summer until I read more about how it likes to grow. Since deer allegedly don't eat it - peony flowers are showy and highly perfumed - I dug a hole and put it in one area of the garden I do not net. I marked it with a small flag and hoped for the best. Walking over to the compost pile one recent morning I checked and found two small, red shoots. Signs of growth! I hope the deer don't discover them.

Look closely. There are two red shoots here. Maybe the deer
will miss them. (Margo D. Beller)

One year I put the cannas I keep in two pots on my enclosed porch for the winter, covered in plastic. I later learned I had made two big mistakes - cannas are supposed to be kept cool but not subfreezing, and they are not supposed to get damp or they will rot. Plastic covering kept them damp and that winter the average temperature on the porch was 32 degrees. It took some time but the plants, once divided, managed to survive and grow. Since then I've stored them in the garage, which provides more shelter.

But for every triumph there seems to be a disaster.

This year the potted rosemary kicked the bucket after 10+ years of providing me with fresh herbs. Did it get too much water or two little? Too much dry house heat? I don't know. I did nothing different than I had in previous winters but even perennials die at some point. So now I have a glass jar full of dried herbs after I took off as many leaves as possible before struggling to get the plant out of the pot and into compost.  A friend let me take two cuttings of her plant, which had come from my plant, and I'll try growing rosemary again.

Then came the white flies.

I have a bad habit of trying to keep so-called "annuals" going over the winter. This started when I kept one pot of peppers indoors and the next year it grew more and bigger peppers. So each year I keep at least one pot of peppers. I have also been known to try to keep annuals going beyond most people's expectations. I kept a mum going for over 10 years, for instance. This past winter I tried that with begonias, coleus and ageratum, with little success. The begonias, ageratum and two of the six coleus died.

Last fall I found a tomato plant growing near my compost pile, perhaps a seed sown by a chipmunk or squirrel. I dug it up and put it in a pot. It grew very fast -- too fast. It had to be caged, staked and tied. It started to flower in December. Unfortunately, like all tomatoes, I discovered it was a white fly magnet.

The previous winter I had a terrible time with white flies. They infested all the plants, which had to be taken outside and shaken, cleaned and quickly brought back. The peppers were banished to my enclosed porch until I could put them outside. They were composted that fall.

Tomato, before composting. (Margo D. Beller)

This time I had kept two plants going, one of which provided me with small but good peppers during the winter. The other has started growing its own fruits. No flies, or so I thought, until I accidentally kicked one of the pots as I cleaned up rosemary debris after moving that pot. I had noticed but ignored some important clues. Some of the pepper leaves had started to brown. "Honeydew" was showing up on the front window. Now I had flies and, worse, I had hundreds of flies on the suddenly wilting tomato.

So the peppers were whisked outdoors, shaken and put on the back porch, where they were wrapped against the cold expected that night. The tomato was taken to the front yard, hit with a spray of water and put behind the deer netting, wrapped. The next morning the peppers were brought indoors, even though there are still some flies around. The tomato was a disaster. I put it on the enclosed porch and today it went back to the compost pile.

From compost came ye and to compost will ye return. I'll be buying my tomatoes from the farm market.