March Madness (Margo's Version)

March Madness means different things to different people. For most, it means collegiate basketball. For me, it is the start of the spring cleaning period when I must get my garden cleared of leaves, pods and other winter debris before the bulk of the flowers start blooming.

This year, however, was especially mad because instead of mid-month the unusual February warmth started the daffodils in my front yard blooming two weeks early and the plants were surrounded by, or growing through, leaves. Another problem: Periods of rain expected in the coming days meant I had only two consecutive dry days to get as much done as I could.

And so it began:

Day 1

I got out later than I should've to cut back the ornamental grasses on what turned out to be a sunny, April-like March morning. These grasses, maiden grass as I recall, I planted at the same time the garden center guys planted Spruce. They are in a plot not protected by deer netting because deer don't eat these grasses with their knife-like foliage. Ornamental grasses come in various colors and grow to various heights. Mine are somewhat stunted because of the network of roots the now-departed ash tree put under them. 

One of the ornamental grasses flowering last year, at its peak.
(Margo D. Beller)

In late summer these grasses throw up plumes of reddish seed heads; in autumn, if conditions are right, the leaves go from green to gold (last autumn was one such year because of all the rain we got, and maybe because those ash roots are no longer growing).

About the only problem with these grasses is they eventually become piles of dry straw and have to be cut back in the spring so the new shoots can come up and allow the process to begin again.

The same grass, far from its peak,
before its haircut. (Margo D. Beller)

I started with the smallest of the grasses, the one closest to the edge of the property and which takes the brunt of the cold northwest winds each winter. Lawn services have the tools to cut a nice even edge. I use my long-handled lopper. The results are not the neatest but it gets the job done. As I worked I had to make sure my bench was not resting on one of the daffodils or other plants just starting to come up. (The daffodils in this area always bloom later than the ones in front, which get more of the sun.) 

The next two grasses were progressively larger and thus took longer to cut, but eventually it all got done with a minimum of damage to the green shoots coming up or the flowers growing near them as I moved my work bench or my feet around to get at the straw.

The day ended with my cutting back the butterfly bush in the front yard, which had already started leafing out. My upper back needed a good rest.

Day 2

Day 1 was a Sunday - sunny and warm, bringing out a host of neighbors, their kids and, unfortunately, their barking dogs. Usually I go inside when it gets too noisy but I had a time constraint and work to do Sunday, so I ignored them and hoped to outlast them.

Leafy liriope and the pink flowers of sedum.
(Margo D. Beller)

By contrast Day 2 was a Monday - cloudy, cooler and a work/school day. I got out by 6:20 a.m. to start raking leaves out of one of the front garden plots where there were spent liriope and sedum foliage to cut back. Both plants flower in autumn. Bees love the sedum. Unfortunately, so do the deer. That's why I had to pull down the netting as far as I could without ripping it or breaking the support poles and lean over it to do my work. As usual there is always one pole where the netting won't move smoothly either up or down. Also as usual, I wished I didn't have to do my gardening this way.

Monday turned out to be a busy day after all, but with a particular type of bird.

Cleared front area, allowing the daffodils to be seen. There
will be many more types of flowers blooming here
as the season goes on.
(Margo D. Beller)

The singing birds I expected - robins, cardinal, Carolina wren, among others. What I didn't expect were the waves of migrant Canada geese taking off from ponds or fields and heading north over my yard to their breeding grounds. They were so loud I could hear them coming long before I saw the skeins, some of which had hundreds of birds. I always stop to watch for them because the large, uneven Vs look so impressive as these families make their way, calling constantly and shifting positions every so often so a different bird could lead from the V's point. The last skein I saw must've had at least 300 birds.

(One woman coming along my street as the geese flew over was doing what must've been her morning power walk. She was talking on the phone as she walked. That must've been an important conversation for so early in the morning. She missed a fine show.) 

My work station as I cut back the grasses.
(Margo D. Beller)

I finished my chores by removing burlap and clearing debris in the backyard plot where yews are protected by netting. The geese must've known something because the first of several expected rainy days began Tuesday.

As you might expect, this annual madness took a toll on my body, but it couldn't be helped. Too-early-blooming flowers and an expected week of rain were beyond my control, so I had to work within the time I had. My reward, once this long and tedious job is done, is being able to enjoy the flowers in my garden without leaves or overgrown old foliage getting in the way.

Which reminds me, I need a haircut.

Oh, Deer!

My brother-in-law lives in a rural part of New Hampshire. When we visit in winter his feeders draw a number of birds. Winter can be harsh up there, climate change notwithstanding. Sometimes the feeders draw something unusual - common redpolls or a flock of wild turkeys, for instance.

(Margo D. Beller)

Recently he announced the feeders had drawn something really unusual, at least to his yard - deer.

Welcome to my world.

In the past, hunting or natural predators have been very efficient in keeping down the deer population in his area. But now there are more homes being built on his road, and those neat parcels of lawn are very enticing for deer. Hunting season is apparently no longer enough up there.

All this, including hunting in restricted areas, has been going on in my suburban New Jersey neighborhood for decades. I've learned the hard way what happens when you grow plants that are not only attractive to you but to wildlife.

First it was the rabbits that nibbled at the asters. I put in a small fence that discouraged them. But it did nothing to stop the deer eating the asters or the euonymous shrubs or the lilies or the sedums. So I put in metal fence posts and hung deer netting. The fence posts would not stay in the ground so eventually they were replaced by thin, plastic-coated metal posts I could more easily hammer in, and on which I tied the netting. 

Protecting the evergreen euonymous
(Margo D. Beller)

Then I learned a hungry deer that was desperate enough would grab the netting with its teeth or use the strength of its hoof to rip a big hole. At first I used burlap to cover the netting on two front plots in winter, but the flapping and tearing caused by the wind had a neighbor complaining. Now I double a piece of netting to make it that much thicker, and I cut back the evergreen euonymous plants as winter approaches to make them harder to reach.

Like my brother-in-law I learned a deer will knock feeders around and eat the spilled seeds. One morning I saw an 8-point buck eating from the house feeder. Not wanting to be gored I banged on the enclosed porch's glass. It looked at me and ambled away. Another reason to take in the feeders at night. (I'd been taking the feeders in at night ever since the first bear attack, except when we've had heavy snow.) 

I learned a fawn could get behind the netting from around the corner if I didn't block the space with folded metal fencing. I learned there are plants deer are less likely to eat, though a hungry deer will always take a bite out of something (such as a canna leaf or a hot pepper) and then learn not to eat it again. (Of course, if enough deer take a bite, you have a dead plant.) 

(Margo D. Beller)

If I had known about deer over 25 years ago when I put in the plants what I have since learned, my garden would look very different. No azaleas and more daffodils, for instance. More ornamental grasses, fewer sedum. 

With Spring coming on I am already dreading the annual hassle of pulling the netting down so I can position myself as close as possible and then lean over the net to remove leaves or stray locust pods and get the beds ready for the season. Every few years I have to pull out the posts and replace the netting. (Last year I did this with the two front beds in a marathon session. Once netting comes down it can't be left that way because of the deer threat.)

Backyard burlap protecting yew plants I learned are
particularly attractive to deer. The backyard
neighbor doesn't seem bothered by the burlap. (Margo D. Beller)

Every year I say to hell with it, I'm taking down all this damned fencing. Then a herd of two to eight deer passes through and I remember why I struggle with this damned fencing.

My brother-in-law doesn't have to worry about this in his rural Eden, at least not yet. For now he'll be taking the feeders in at night, until the bears come out of their dens and he stops feeding the birds for the season anyway.