THE GREEN WOMAN'S GARDEN 413-225-2144
Through the Year
"The trees are bare, wild flies the snow,
Hearths are glowing, hearts are merry -
High in the air is the Mistletoe,
Over the door is the Holly Berry.
Never have care how the winds may blow,
Never confess the revel grows weary -
Yule is the time of the Mistletoe,
Yule is the time of the Holly Berry."
William Stanley Braithwaite
"I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too proud. So I like best of all autumn, because its tone is mellower, its colors are richer, and it is tinged with a little sorrow, Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor the power of summer, but the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and its content."
"I am rich today with autumn's gold,
All that my covetous hands can hold;
Frost-painted leaves and goldenrod,
A goldfinch on a milkweed pod,
Huge golden pumpkins in the field
With heaps of corn from a bounteous yield,...
Oh, who could find a dearth of bliss
With autumn glory such as this!"
It looks as though I have totally missed a month of blogging. August just slipped through the cracks, and I can't retrieve it. So I'll just have to move forward with September, which is a better month, anyways. August brought us an earthquake (though I never felt it) and a hurricane wannabe, who left plenty of destruction in her wake just the same. An ancient apple tree on my property gave up, and about one-third of a persimmon was felled by high winds. I have never - in the 27 years I've lived here - been without power for more than around 24 hours.
The end of July finds me back at home, after traveling to two wonderful events. The Annual Meeting and Educational Conference of The Herb Society of America was held this year in Pittsburgh, PA from June 24 through June 26. Included were lots of wonderful speakers, including Jekka McVicar, who gave a lively talk on uses of herbs. Jekka is from the UK, and brought her special brand of humor and knowledge of many unusual herbs. She also experienced "ribbon-envy" as she noted upon her arrival that she did not have ribbons designating various aspects of the conference.
The man who wants a garden fair,
Or small or very big,
With flowers growing here and there,
Must bend his back and dig.
The things are mighty few on earth
That wishes can attain.
Whate'er we want of any worth
We've got to work to gain.
It matters not what goal you seek,
Its secret here reposes:
You've got to dig from week to week
To get Results or Roses.
Edgar A. Guest
As I look down my garden walk
I see white iris stalk on stalk
Lifting their heads in clear surprise
At a white swarm of butterflies.
I cannot tell which is more white,
For both are charged with April light,
Or which will first take wing and rise,
The iris or the butterflies.
Mother Nature can be capricious at times. The April 1st snowstorm here in the Northeast is an example of her volatile nature. After a long, cold, snowy winter, we were already anticipating the appearance of spring, eagerly awaiting those elements that mean spring in New England. Crocus, daffodils and other spring plants were emerging, and other perennial plants were shrugging off their winter torpor and showing signs of activity. Then, BAM! A heavy wintry mix of the dreaded white stuff, which had pretty much disappeared in spite of the almost record snowfall of the past season.
The crazy, stormy weather seems to have lessened. March decided to come in fairly quietly, and the snow has finally begun to melt. It's time to begin thinking of the upcoming season of planting, if you haven't already. Emerging plants, peeking out from under their warm blanket of snow, prove that spring is coming at last. Some perennials are already showing signs of growth, with tight little buds just barely in sight. One of these is horseradish, the IHA Herb of the Year for 2011.
As the light grows longer
The cold grows stronger
If Candlemas be fair and bright
Winter will have another flight
If Candlemas be cloud and rain
Winter will be gone and not come again
A farmer should on Candlemas day
have half his corn and half his hay
On Candlemas day if thorns hang a drop
You can be sure of a good pea crop.
An old Scottish poem