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CHOOSING FAVORITE SEASON TOUGH CHOICE FOR GARDENERS
I often hear people say, "Fall is the best season" or "My favorite time of the year is spring."
I've never been able to claim a particular season as my favorite because I like them all best. Like right now, the meteorologists are predicting 50-degree temperatures for the upcoming weekend and I'm thinking "Let's get on with it...this is snow season, and I'm primed for a blizzard!"
Winter reassures me that I'm truly a Minnesotan. Breathtaking air that freezes my nostril hairs is invigorating. I eagerly await the first serious snow because only then can I snap on cross-country skis and silently traverse the glistening white earth to observe fox tracks, flocks of snow buntings and sundogs on the horizon.
Winter offers so much variety. Extreme cold seldom lasts more than a few days before a wave of southern air creates afternoon puddles on the deck and spirited squirrel chases in the overhanging oak tree.
In winter, I feel a closer kinship to birds and furry critters. Perhaps it's because the wusses have all headed south and only the hardiest of us have chosen to stay behind - kind of like the kinship of Viking fans who used to gather at December football games at old Met Stadium.
My father taught me long ago that winter really only lasts through January because, starting in February, you begin to sense signs of spring. Like the higher sun angle in the southern sky, swelling buds on basswoods, and subtle changes in the birds' songs.
I will admit that, for a gardener, spring is a very special time. In fact, a gardener's greatest vulnerability is to fool himself or herself into believing that gardening season has actually arrived weeks or even months prior to the frost-free days of late May. Nature changes so fast in spring that it's tempting some evenings to stay outdoors so we won't miss all the activity. Miss a day or two because of an ill-timed trip and a rare migrating warbler may have come and gone before your return.
Few days are more satisfying to a gardener than a sun-drenched Saturday in late May when each task on the job list is a labor of love that you've been rehearsing in your mind for months. For a few fleeting days in May, a Minnesotan can actually relax outdoors in a lawn chair and never be pestered by a mosquito, gnat, wasp or yellow jacket.
In my five decades of life in Minnesota, I can't recall a single summer that lasted too long. Perhaps this is because, by southern standards, our summers don't last very long. My greatest summer pleasure is simply observing all of nature doing what it does best: bloom, root, fruit, wave, pollinate, fly, swim, croak and chirp.
Sunflowers, pumpkins, corn and other large plants seem to swell even as we stand and stare; vines meander up trellises and tree branches; flowers attempt to out-dazzle each other with color and fragrance; trees show off their fruit and leafy wardrobes; and everything seems right with the world.
One of summer's great gifts is watching, listening to and smelling a warm evening thunderstorm that follows a prolonged dry spell. Cracks baked into the earth gradually press together, while roots that have tolerated my sprinkling cans of mineralized well water finally are able to drink freely of the tastier, softer water that falls naturally from above.
Each summer I discover butterflies and other insect species I never knew existed. Last summer while walking through a thick stand of trees, I noticed a branch stuck to my shirt. As I swept at it with my hand, the branch turned into a 4-inch walking stick that clung to my wrist, peering at me with a measure of suspicion that equaled my shock as I realized it wasn't a twig.
For most gardeners, autumn combines exhilaration and sadness. Cooler and shorter days signal the end of the growing season and that is something of a downer. At the same time, a Minnesota fall can yield some of the most-perfect days to be found on planet earth. Visitors from California and Florida often marvel at the incomparable perfection of a fall day in Minnesota.
If spring can be thought of as unfolding and spreading out, then fall is the time for gathering and folding things back up. Pots need emptying and their soil recycled. Leaves need raking or mulching. Hoses need draining. Lawns need their late-season fertilizer application. Flowerbeds need a final weeding. Spring bulbs need planting. Lawnmowers and tillers need to be winterized and stored somewhere behind the snowblower.
This fall offered much pleasure for gardeners because it lasted so long. I heard meteorologist Bruce Watson say that the growing season in his Roseville backyard exceeded the previous record-long growing season by more than 30 days. Some plants on south-facing slopes near a foundation may still be growing in some local yards.
For those of you who are thinking it's time for me to get on with life and select a favorite season, you're right. I promise to announce my choice in a future column.
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PUTTING DOWN ROOTS:
A Delightful Blend of
Gardening Wisdom, Wit
and Whimsy
$10 + $2 for shipping
by Cliff Johnson |
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