Once more into the garden. . .

Daffodils

It's been a tough couple of weeks in terms of weather and politics. While Maine's winters always extend through March, this year is harder than the past four. I think it's because the cold started so early and never really relented. But. Spring will come. The daffodils are full of self confidence as they poke through the duff, ready to Put On A Show. Soon. Not quite yet.

We had some winter damage this year. And for the first time deer took a toll. John thinks it may have been because this was the first year Jasper wasn't here. He's also blaming the abundance of turkeys on Jasper's absence. It's possible. Jasper never chased any of them, but I'm sure his scent was everywhere. I miss him still. I wonder if having his image everywhere makes things worse, but I love to look at him. Half of the benefit of having a dog is just having something so beautiful with you. And so graceful. 

But I digress.

Winter damage on Rhododendron

We had some of the same damage on the rhododendrons as we had last year, though not as bad. Given that it was a harsher winter temperature-wise, I'm thinking that it may indeed be wind damage. The plants opposite are much more exposed than the other ones by the house, under the Copper Beech that are mostly unharmed.

Deer damage on Columnar Plum

We also had what I think is deer damage this  year. Our columnar plum, which I planted 3-4 years ago, and has finally started to take it's columnar form (with much encouragement from my pruning shears) is very likely to die. She is girdled. It's odd that this tree, against the house, suffered more damage than the more distant fruit trees.

Deer damage on Stanley Plum

 

 

 

 

 

 

 I also made a mistake by thinking that southwest injury was the only threat to the fruit tree trunks in winter. The Stanley plum, above, was damaged, though it will likely heal up. I'm hoping. My thought was that the plastic wraps I have used for the past 4 years are a pain to use and store, and I know that growers often paint the trunks with white latex paint to protect from southwest injury. 

Apple buds

Southwest injury happens when there is bright sun, but cold conditions (common in Maine). The tree trunks heat up during the day (with no leaves to shade them from that wonderful sun), but when dark comes temperatures plummet quickly and split tree trunks. =dead tree. Because we hadn't seen many deer in the yard, I didn't consider that the plastic wraps were also protecting them from the deer. Sigh. Lesson learned. Next year I'll go back to the wraps, and take my licks this year.

 Most plants are still holding out for longer days and/or warmer weather.  Apples, plum and peach still have their buds locked up tight. Blueberries too. 

Blueberry buds

Plum buds

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But others are less circumspect, if not giving in completely to that desire to leaf out. 

The honeysuckle is one such plant (on an arbor by our patio,) and the hellebores are in serious negotiations. 

Hellobore

Rhubarb peeks out

Meanwhile, the rhubarb is poking through, cold be damned, and the wild geraniums are showing their optimism as well. Both of those latter plants are pretty cold tolerant, so I figure they know what they're about.
 

When I was a student at the University of Maryland, I had a plant ID class that required us to start going out into the wild and identifying plants in February. It was astonishing to me, a very green student (forgive the pun), how many things were starting to grow in the forests in that Maryland area. By March, I had identified and collected many forest floor plants, including trout lily, which I had never noticed before. It was amazing that I had always perceived that spring had not arrived, when it fact it had. One just had to look for it. 

Wild geraniums (Cranesbill)

 

 

 

[Note: Sorry about the formatting strangeness of this post. Sometimes Blogger makes it very hard to manipulate images and text. . . ]

After the visit to warmer climes. . .

After a visit to Texas, where temperatures were moderate enough to wear a dress and dog-walking shoes. . . ONLY. . .we're back in Maine. We had a couple of days in the 50's and 60's, but now were back to our normal 30's, and 40's if we're lucky. March in Maine. Not so bad, though I was glad for a couple of days reprieve.

And it was time, at last, to face the kiln opening. Things turned out ok. I made this oblong vase by throwing the top-without-a-bottom, and then forming it into any oval when leather hard. I like the form a lot. And the glazing is ok, though not what I had expected. I sprayed on the two glazes rather than dipping because I wanted a white liner on the inside. This is the speckled brown clay, and it is definitely a rustic looking vase. At 6" tall and about 7" long it will be perfect for some of the shorter spring bulbs. I should call it "Waiting for tulips". 

I was happy with the results of these Calla Lily mugs, too. Neither quite equal the Favorite Mug (referred to in an earlier post). . .one is larger and the other smaller, but they both feel good in my hands. The clay is also, again, the Speckled Brown. I'm out of that clay now, so it will be white stoneware, porcelain and terra cotta for a while. Funny how I approach my clay bodies the way I approach cooking. "What do I need to use before moving on to something new?"

And then there were the three rice bowls. Daddy, Momma and Baby bears. The two on the right are close in size, but the far left bowl, which I threw last, is noticeably larger. It's ok. This was a skill building exercise. And once again, I'm so conscious of waste, that I didn't want to cut down that last bowl to make it equal in size to the others. Notice also that the clay body (seen on the bottom unglazed rim) is white stoneware for the outside bowls, and the brown specked for the middle one. I like the less stark transition of the darker clay, though its roughness can be felt. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses.

This mug was an attempt to make a previous mug (also in an earlier post) smaller. This really highlights my perhaps ridiculous search for the Perfect Sized mug. Oddly, I thought I had reduced the size of both the circumference and the height by 1/2", but the mug remained stubbornly slightly larger than I had hoped.

 Perfection really is the enemy of good. 

Waiting for the kiln to cool. . .

 

I've got about a half an hour before I can open the kiln and see if my glazing efforts have, once again, gone rogue. But I'd thought I'd share a few seasonal thoughts. The first is that my impatience with snow and cold is starting to surface. It's really too early for that, because in Maine, March is just another winter month. Still it has its moments. Westerners tend to think that they have a lock on beautiful sunsets, but we have our fair share, too. And while grand vistas are often preferred by some, I love seeing the sky through the trees. . . this time of year, with the leaves off the deciduous trees, a lot can be seen.

To the right is the state-of-the-moment in our yard. According to our snow measuring device (a stick in the ground), we still have 11" on the ground. You can see in this image where John has snow blown a path for me so I can get to the bird feeders without getting snow down my boots. But look closer, and you'll also see a path that the turkeys have made. They're all over the yard, and are really fun to see. Many have impressions of their feathers on the sides of the trough. . .probably from when they were frightened and either flapped their wings or took off.  

This little troupe has become a regular attraction at out feeders, often walking on my birdseed delivery trails. It's hard to appreciate how big they are, but they are at least as tall as my hip. They walk like Egyptians, run like little children (including the yelling), and fly like they're not quite sure it will work. But their feathers are extraordinary. Some are iridescent black, some brown striped, and their neck feathers are small and arranged in very orderly rows. I'd like to do a series of paintings on enamel that show the beauty of animal markings up close. So close that you can't really tell what it is. A sparrow's subtle pattern of browns, a chickadee's body/wing, a chipmunk's stripes. They're all much more complex than one might think, and likely beyond my skill level. No worries. Most of our skill levels lack that of nature. Off to Texas in two days. . .