By Timothy Hull
Well, we can all agree that was quite a winter. I wasn’t emotionally prepared because all autumn I heard tell that the season was forecasted to be rather mild like the winter before. Even the esteemed Farmer’s Almanac didn’t foresee the permafrost that would settle in my garden for weeks and weeks on end.
There were days that the undulating white mounds became so repetitive I longed to sell the house and move to southern climes. I certainly wouldn’t need a snowblower in Puerto Rico! The only contrast to the white of the snow were the ubiquitous wood chippings from the pileated woodpecker tearing asunder all the ash trees. It’s sad, so many of the ash have just been stripped bare of all their remaining dignity, now nothing but a flayed trunk.
Finally, the snow has melted, and although I cursed it, I suppose I’m thankful for the quiet benefits of dense snow on the ground. All the greenery is pleased with all the nitrogen, insulation and watering the blanket of snow provides. Although I do see a lot of lawn wear-and-tear from mouse and perhaps chipmunk colonies that created tubular pathways between the grass and snow – the top of the lawn looks like the cross section of an ant farm! I’m dying to clean it up, however I understand not to rake and disturb the lawn and garden beds just yet as myriad pollinators and other insects are still wintering over in the ground and under leaf matter.
Happily, the slightly warm days have brough the daffodils peeking up, the crocus dotting the landscape and the snowdrops surviving weeks under cover. Even the tulips have thus far evaded the deer’s menu! Our garden is really a spring garden as Bob Reiter and Ann Fusco spent decades planting bulbs of all kinds. Of course, last fall I kept up the tradition and planted dozens of new variety bulbs myself, and now I await the surprise splendor. My goal is a cascade of spring blooms from the first snowdrops to the June alliums. Spring is on the way and with it the hope and optimism, which this year, is more than a metaphor.
