Twittering


Two nights ago I dreamt that the winter dead plants in my garden were full of honey bees. I was startled, of course. I also dreamt that the landlord cleared the other side of the house making it ready for planting. None of this is real.

It will warm up this week. That will push us toward spring, my heels dragging on pavement.

I went to Lowe's yesterday to get some seed starter mix, or even just some sphagnum, or potting soil in a small bag. They had none of these things! I asked and the woman said it is not time yet. Really? They did have massive bags of Miracle Grow soil, fertilized and moisturized. The big box stores still stock their shelves as if this were the suburbs.

I wish my local nurseries were open. I ended driving to a hardware store on Court St. They had a few bags of Fafard starter mix. I bought two and a bucket for coffee ground collection.

I've built my seed starting box out of scrap materials. I've also received my irrigation supplies and agribon fabric that I will use as a cabbage moth deterrent.

Now to put it all together.


Snow Farm



I recently visited the snow farm, aka beach farm, ostensibly to drop off my permit application, pay my fee, and receive my parking permit from the NPS ranger who mans the little shack, left turn, before the bridge. But really all I wanted to do was trudge through the snow, taking photographs under the mid day sun, of all the good things I expected to see there.

The snow had a firm layer on top, compressed, congealed, by the many icing events over the last few weeks. Walking was easier than I imagined, sinking in about three inches on each new step. The landscape was untrammeled, except by a lone animal as evidenced by these tracks.

This is my plot, along with a receding view of neighbors' plots. The snow had been caught in drifts, affected by wind and obstructions. The few upright sticks indicate the location of the garlic I planted last November.

The snow was quite deep to the north and south side of the fence, dipping at the fence line to just a few inches.

My plot, looking northwest, untouched since late November.

I became quite aware of the heat created by decaying wood. Look closely and you will see green things quite unfrozen  at its base. This is the north, not sunny, side of the post in the corner of our plot.

In fact, the more I walk, the more green I find. Not exuberance, mind you, or even real growth, but definitive aliveness wherever the icy snow had melted away from the heat of decay or radiation. 

Though weeds, they bring exaltation.


To the south of the garden were vines with green leaves -a surprise. But then consider the micro climate -south facing fence line, peninsular location, and of course, the great pile...

...of horse manure.

And although this has been one of the coldest winters I can recall in recent years, the rosemary still has tender green leaves near and under the snow -not those dry, gray leaves my potted rosemary has (it's okay to call that dead).

Even my neighbor's Swiss chard had seemed to survive the winter.


I now find some useful logic in the winter garden. City folk relent, while we curse snow on streets and sidewalks, the constant snow cover is a friend of the garden. If we want to over winter certain herbs and vegetables we want a winter snow cover, which protects the plants from those freezing, drying winds, keeps the soil from freezing hard, and limits the detrimental freeze/thaw oscillation. Add to this the beauty of decay. Livestock manure, a large compost pile, rotting wood, or some other form of heat generating bio activity. The heat generated is enough, especially if placed in a sunny, protected spot, to keep some cold weather vegetables and herbs alive. 

Of course, the plants can usually read the season better than us, lying in wait.


Look Away From The Horizon



As much as you do, undoubtedly, I grow tired of the tense shouldered, hunching posture of winter, the gray ice pavement, even the frozen dog turds. But I don't want it to end. I cannot ask for it to be over. Time is as slick as that puddle ice. GO SLOW.  The quiet is everything. Spring moves far too fast for me to beg for it. It is something to be savored, contemplated, in the ever-lasting distance of winter.


recently finished work.



My Eyes Are Full Of Smoke

We made the hour and a half journey upslope to the patch-treed, rumpled farm landscape, snow and ice refracted illusions of shadow and light at high speeds on two lane highways. Then, downslope, treed, over the Minnesota River, into the town of New Ulm, Minnesota. Unprepossessing, downtown paralleling the river, low rise, unanticipated one story marketplatz, grain elevators, powerplant, and grid of house-planked streets.

New Ulm is the site of significant battles during the Dakota War of 1862. New Ulm is also the ancestral town of my wife's paternal family. Mention her last name on the streets of New Ulm and any devotee of local history will first say, "ahh yes, first white baby born in the county." It is hard to hear these words without focusing on inflection. I joke with Rex that his ancestor is like some sort of Abraham of the Midwest.

The Dakota war led to the largest mass execution in United States history -the hanging of 38 Dakota men in Mankato, Mn. Hermann the German, rising above New Ulm from its heights above the river, is a monument to German settlement in Minnesota. To me it's a bit ironic that 'Hermann the barbarian' should rise above a town with this difficult history, that he should become the symbol, controverted, of civilization over 'savagery.'

First stop, the New Ulm Historical Society in the old post office building.



Rendition of the mass hanging.

Little Crow.



Hermann, from behind.

New Ulm, after sunset, from the heights.

Wilhelm and Wilhelmina. The expression on his face seems a little out of step with the portraits of the times. I detect a little smile and she may even be suppressing laughter. Or not.

Apiary was the norm.

Day in the yard at "Waldheim." There are people who name their property and those who don't. What drives this difference?

Apiary in the orchard.



Rubber and Ice


We exited our station after 1 am, which is highly unusual for us, but this time because we had just come from a free, NYC premier of a movie called Rubber, by a French filmmaker I cannot recall, at the IFC. The visual idea of a tire rolling through the desert landscape was mine, created over ten years ago in the Chihuahua Desert, and completely unknown to this filmmaker. The proof is in a box of Polaroids and on old vhsc cassettes. He took it in the direction of slasher movie and I took it nowhere, but that, my friends, is another story. 

Upon leaving the station I was suddenly quite stunned by the landscape all around me. I do not use the F line much anymore, favoring the more steady and direct B line, so I hadn't seen the landscape transformed by the snow and ice until just then, illuminated by the yellow sodium lights of night.

The spot in springtime

As is usual, and always a mistake, I did not have my camera, because of its ancient bulk and weight, and I regretted it immediately, yet I was also unwilling to return because of the cold, the hour. The landscape was one of hummocks and greasy shine, slick in appearance, as if the snow top had been burnished or oiled and polished. It was beautiful, but creepy.

After skating home over icy asphalt, I decided to head out front in the quiet of early morning to take some shots of our own slick snow mountains. The shine is a crust and quite fragile to the touch. My street scape lacks the power of the overpass park (as I call it), but hints at the total quality. 




Icecapade



New Dawn has taken a beating this year.

 Gaura, one way.

And the other.

 Perovskia atriplicifolia, err, Russian sage.

Hmm. The honeysuckle holds its ice well. But there's no life left in those branches, having been cut off near the ground by the fallen-over trellis.

 Rose leaf, knocked out by ice.

 Hips.

 Icesters.

 In the carbonite chamber (that's for you, Star Wars fans -you know who you are).

Some fine lookin hips.


Icehouldn'thave



But I did. And maybe you won't have too. One thing about cold weather -it's intolerable when it's wet, and this morning, it's friggin wet. My fingers still hurt from 15 minutes of ungloved photography. If you could call it that. It's too dark out for good shots, my camera relying on the noisy 400 ISO despite all the bright snow. Shrinking them helps -my tip o the day.

 The little girl with the fuschia umbrella said to me "it's slippery out." Yes.

 The coat of ice on the van.



Icesome

It's 7:30 am and a look out the window shows an icy covering on everything. Makes me really want to get outside for photos. But, then I'm also not so interested in going outside. Last night, waiting for the bus, the breeze and icy rain stung my cheek, and left an indelible, nasty impression. I'll see what I can muster. From the window:


Thoughts For Another Month


Apparently more snow and ugly weather is on the way and surely the news media is making hay. We'll survive.

I've been hearing commercials for Portuguese cork on public radio these days. Haven't you? So, wasn't it that we were supposed to be very concerned about the fate of a diminished cork oak forest? Now all I am hearing is sustainable harvest, greenhouse gas absorbing, living tree harvesting cork, cork, cork. And now with all the polyurethane corks, shouldn't we wonder about peak oil? What? Oil an endangered resource? Eh? Will those plastic corks give way to the corky corks? I don't like the idea of plastic corks, but they never split from poor storage.

I had some other thought, but alas, I cannot recall. Better wait till next month.

Snow Job: Be Good To The Hood


I am going to say this for the social welfare of all New Yorkers, and quite particularly for those New Yorkers who have cars. I hope you are sitting down.

I have a minivan. It parks on the street, hopefully somewhere near my apartment. After the other night's snow, I got up early enough to get the shovel work done before the plows came through. This wasn't tough, because all the serious plowing was still being done on the main drags. I pulled the snow off and then shoveled the snow out from around the van, throwing some of it on the sidewalk pile and some in the street. I made sure I wouldn't compact the snow with my tires by clearing out underneath and in the tires' path.

Then the plows came and pushed most of the snow away. I was lucky enough to be on the left side of the street, easing my work.

There are a few ways of dealing with driving after a large snow. One way is to never move your parked car -in fact, never even clear the snow off of it. That's one way. Another way is to gun your engine, spinning your tires relentlessly, so that your can leave your spot in a half hour. That's one more way. Some do diligently clear out their spots, but then put garbage pails, cones, or saw horses in place. Yet another way, but it's illegal and rude -you haven't purchased the spot with your labor. I, or someone else, will park in that spot because we too have given up our spots. Rather obvious I suppose, but not to the entitled person who thinks their labor is worth more than any one's.

After a long day at the studio I hustled back to the neighborhood because I knew parking would be tough, but I found a few options. First, I parked temporarily and grabbed my shovel. I proceeded to clear out a spot by throwing the snow onto the large corner piles -not in the street where the slushy mix is collecting into hard ruts which are very difficult to navigate -forget parallel parking! Then I parked, clearing out more snow around the van so it's easy to pull out the next time. But I didn't stop there, no, I then cleared out a path behind my van because I was parked near the cross walk, which is blocked by a huge pile, and I want people to be able to cross safely.

I do not think I have taken extraordinary measures. Imagine if all the people in our neighborhood cleared out their cars early on, then continued to clear the spots as they left and returned. Maybe we wouldn't have verbal confrontations on the street about who owns spots and we wouldn't be sliding off ruts into parked cars, and all in all we would feel a sense of  accomplishment instead of the prevailing every person for themselves attitude.

Minnesotans laugh at New Yorkers. Why? Because we have an uncivilized approach to dealing with snow in the streets. They laugh because we refuse to work together. They have institutionalized their collective activity, so that they simply, all together, move their cars to one side of the street before the snow emergency so that the plow can clear one side, then move again to the other, so the plow can do the opposite side. It takes some organization, some doing, to get it to work, but work it does.

I'm not sure I would even recommend that for our town, but I highly recommend taking care of your car and your neighborhood by sacrificing a little time and labor to solve the problem instead of complaining so much about the snow and your lousy neighbor who took your spot, and then concocting something ridiculous like saw horses with tow away zone plastered all over it. Get real NYC.

I, for one, just wish the highway overpass sidewalks were cleared of snow or even just salted, bus stops and subway entrances were better cleared, and businesses did a little more to clear the corner crosswalk cutaways. It's still January folks, and all that slush is about to freeze. We need to spend a little more time and money on sidewalk clearing and let the car owners, like myself, take care of our own -and the best way to do that is to work together.


Obligatory Snow Storm


I missed the big one in December, so this is my first big snowfall. After shoveling out the car and sidewalk, shaking snow off sagging roses and yews, I took a couple of shots.

 Landlord's truck shows how much snow, maybe.

 The side garden shows it, no?

 How about the bird house? They hate shoveling.

It is only in the snow that you can truly appreciate the red branches of climbing hydrangea.


Gangs Of New York



And they're all family. There were three more just below the top steps of a local feeder. On Saturday morning I went to a presentation on urban wildlife by the Field Director on Urban Wildlife, Laura Simon, of the Humane Society of the U.S. The cats weren't the main topic, but what keeps them going also keeps the raccoons, possums, pigeons, squirrels, and rats a coming. 

Tips for keeping wildlife at bay:
  • Don't feed the wildlife.
  • If you do feed feral cats, watch them eat and then remove the tray.
  • Keep your trash in a tight-lidded container. 
  • If your sanitation worker dislikes your trash container, so would a raccoon.
  • Keep your home well maintained, sealing up all points of entry.

Notes on wildlife diseases:
  • Raccoons carry rabies. 
  • Actual cases transferred to humans in urban areas is low.
  • Only 3 deaths per year, nationally.
  • If you are bit by a raccoon or other wild animal, get the vaccine immediately. 
  • There is no blood test for rabies, and showing symptoms means it's too late for you.
  • Raccoon Roundworm can be deadly -you could get it from raccoon poop.
  • Raccoons poop just like cats -in a hidden spot in the garden.
  • Keep your hands away from your mouth while gardening -this means no fresh beans until washed up!
  • Ensure that children wash; check play areas for poop.
  • Possums have a natural rabies resistance, are highly unlikely to attack or bite, and should be of little concern.

Other notes:
  • Raccoons don't chew wood or wires. 
  • They enter homes through obvious openings.
  • A raccoon may have young in its nest, so be aware before you seal up any entry points. 
  • If you see one trapped in a dumpster, leave a branch or piece of wood so it can climb out. 
  • Raccoons can't jump.
  • If you see a possum in a garbage pail, tip it over and leave it be -it will leave after you do.
  • Possums are ugly but cause no harm.

Raccoons and Opossum are omnivores, eating many insects and mice. But not if we feed them so much. Truth be told, it's not the squirrels, raccoons, opossums, or even rats that are the problem -mostly its us feeding them inadvertently or intentionally. As it turns out, the city is as gracious to smart animals as it is to smart people.

Yeah, It's Cold



And I've decided not to order any new seeds. Really. I want different things, but then, who am I kidding. I'll have hundreds of seeds going out of date in the coming years. So, I'll plant what I got. I did, however, get a couple of free seed packets from my irrigation supply order from Peaceful Valley Farm Supply. I requested leeks and carrots. In season, undoubtedly I will pick up some starts from one of our Brooklyn nurseries. I may even head on over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, after one of our many snowfalls this winter, to photograph and buy some of their many seed packets on display in the gift shop.

All in all, I am dissatisfied with the mail order/online process for seeds this year. Hmm. Either they are too highly priced (Scheepers), too complicated (Fedco) or just too slow (one site said 45 days to process orders!). I also got caught up in wondering where the seeds actually came from and whether or not I wanted seeds selected in or for a northern climate (Johnny's, Fedco).

Yep. I've got enough seeds. I'd rather spend my time doing something else. This week I plan to build a custom seed starting tray out of scrap materials at work. And dig the cold frame out from under the snow. And dream of even better irrigation.


Night Snow



The view out my bed's window, just after rising. 

This was the kind of snow I like. Wake up to it. Soft, hushing, blue skied. No wind just yet, snow clinging to everything just where it had settled. It can even make my neighborhood look like a postcard wonderland, for the first hour or so, at least. Had I not needed to shuffle off to work, I'd a been in Prospect, camera in hand.

It's going to get colder soon, if it hasn't already (I've been indoors, windowless). Secondary cold front coming through bringing temps into the teens, maybe lower, for our lows. And wind, there'll be wind.


Thorn Turd



This is one side of our lovely building.

In November, the landlord decided to start replacing windows. His guy started with the upper apartments. He said he would do ours this January. So far, nothing. The window above is one of the new windows. It appears that he wanted to redo the windows before he did the siding, which he has been threatening to do since the expulsion. That sequence makes sense, and while I am loathe to open my place to the dust and debris of removing rotten window framing and walls, better now than when the garden is in season, right? I can take the dirt, the cold, but the plants, abuse them while dormant!

Unfortunately, many pieces of the old, rotten framing are tossed down below. One particular good toss unseated my rose trellis. Now the whole thing hangs lopsided. When the debris whacked the trellis, it snapped the main branches of my honeysuckle. I suppose that's not all that bad, it's never done well here anyway -too sunny and hot.

Amazing enough is how it sprouts new leaves despite the coldest winter in some time. I will move this plant this spring to the other side of the house. Where over there? I do not know. I gotta start giving things away.

One great pleasure of my neighborhood is that many people actually bag their doggy doo. So too bad that some folks decide it is then okay to wing the thing into my climbing rose. Particularly thorny the rose, particularly stuck sack of shit. Public gardening is a thorny enterprise and I grow weary.