Leonard Moorehead, the Urban Gardener: Spring’s Snowy Prelude

Saturday, January 31, 2015

Leonard Moorehead, GoLocalWorcester Gardening Expert

Urban gardeners are savvy weather people. Ephemeral snowflakes and great snowdrifts alike attract our attention. Blizzards, gales, downward and upward surges in temperature are like mother’s milk to us. Four season gardeners are resilient people. We tolerate and often embrace change as the only constant. More sanguine than televised media, there is no need for hyperbole or disaster to inspire interest. Gardeners have ready-made gauges at our finger tips and the end of our tongues. Intuition guides us. Hope is powerful. Look out the windows.

Recent snow

Recent snow falls have covered our gardens in monochromatic white. Resist any impulse to consign precious urban garden plots to specific seasons. Some of us defy climate. Rebellion manifests as permanent room temperature or controlled lighting. Many sympathize. The allure of petite African violets or purple cyclamen seduces the most hardened. Who can resist a few blooms in the house while winter reigns over containers, plots, and gardens? Surely life is improved by a fresh bouquet of carnations, stems pruned a half inch daily, water changed and a baby aspirin on the kitchen table ready to greet heavily dressed commuters. Color smiles upon us. Pink never has looked so good.

Ice, snow, slush

Ice, snow, slush and treacherous footing are constant companions in our crowded cities. Many respond and escape winter for other climates. Urban gardeners however are more tolerant. Our perspective is based upon arcs formed long ago and certain to endure far beyond our passage. Long dark nights contain beacons over-head. Orion’s Belt girds winter’s sky. Cold dry air accentuates planets, stars and moons. Our breath steams, snow crunches underfoot. We are not huddled beneath thick quilts our hands glued to remote controls. Our cache of hand tools includes ergonomic snow shovels and a will to be outside. Paths direct our steps directly to doorways and steps are carefully cleared.

Fallow season

Winter is a fallow season for gardens. Never quite dormant, just beneath the topsoil Earth’s molten core radiates heat outward. Our large oaks, beeches and trees reach deeply into soil a constant 55 degrees. Marvelously adaptable to changes in temperature, plants demonstrate nature’s universal ability to nurture life. Be hopeful friends, our turn at growing is not at end. Winter is a temporary pause in the season’s endless progress.

Garden’s friend

Snow is the garden’s friend. Moisture transported around the globe coalesces around miniscule air borne particles. Gravity, that mysterious force that defies dimensions and defines constant, grasps space debris as we swing around the sun. Volcanoes spew gases and propel vital elements far into the atmosphere. Moisture forms around particles of every stripe. Our snowy gardens are universes. No snowflake is alike; each has its own contribution. Under the arbor and on the cold granite stone bench it’s possible to reach into space and time. Focus upon breath, inhale, and exhale. Release captive thoughts. All is one and never more available than in the snow covered garden. Joyous, we are known to lay on the snow and wave arms and legs. Angelic, it is good to be alive, our snowy silhouette impressive proof.

Snowy moisture

Gardens absorb snowy moisture. Snow melt is far from pure H2O. No, it is a complex ionic charged substance slowly seeping into the thick mulches careful gardeners have laid down. The slow transit of moisture stabilizes soils and protects from expansive freeze and thaws. Tender root cells are protected from tearing actions. Frost is likely to penetrate mulched gardens. Snow slows the passage of moisture. Life teems as complex hay, seaweeds, manure, shredded leaves feed hordes of microbes. Slow worms digest organic materials into ever more miniscule particles. Snow may look frozen and static. It is not. Snow is always in motion, carved by wind, resurrected by sunshine, drawn into the soil.

Insulates and protects

Snow insulates and protects gardens. Barks, stems, bulbs, and seeds are safer under snow. Predatory mice, squirrels, birds and the surprisingly abundant small mammals and marsupials in our cities dig into the snow. Some enter that odd state of hibernation where body temperatures and heart rates decline. Yes, clear your pathways for personal safety but do not remove snow from planting grounds. Long before people, Eden accepted snow and made room for this beautiful form of water. As in all gardening, we simply guide. Domination is not our forte, rather co-operation breeds gardening success like no other.

Promises live

Promises live within snow. New perspectives reveal themselves in snow. True NE, familiar to gardeners in New England, always results in drifts more accurate than atomic clocks. Wind chimes clamor to absent ears in snow shrouded gales. Now is the time to observe patterns of sunshine on brilliant white surfaces. All garden plants respond to sunshine in their degree, hopeless is the gardener who plants tomatoes in the shade or hosta in the sunny glare. Urban gardening is never passive. Rely upon senses under- valued in the market place but innate to our being. Patience in an impatient world is a gardeners’ virtue.

Much life

Beneath the snowy surfaces is much life. The past remains vibrant. The future is never further away than it appears. Urban gardeners browse seed catalogs, tour virtual gardens; regale one another with elaborate conversations of the merits of roses field grown in Texas vs locally. The verdict? Locally cultivated plants are winners. Each has leapt over hurtles early in life that make the difference between survival and surpassing. Imagination is alive and well under the snow. Future joys are aware beneath the snow.

Gardeners search

Soon, gardeners search for the first signs of spring, the vanguards wait. Hellebore or Lenten roses are gathering their strength. Crocus, snowdrops and hazels are ready to announce new seasons. Indoors, we water potted plants and give each pot a quarter turn to keep growth even. Seed catalogs begin to show wear and tear. New colors attract jaundiced eyes. Water begins to emerge from snow banks. Flooded corners bewilder pedestrians. Fuel bills arrive in larger numbers. Storm systems march across oceans and continents. Yet hope endures, thrives. Our vision is limitless and the urge to cultivate, plant, and nurture increases. Gardeners are optimists. We endure the present snow as a moment in the endless parade of change, the only constant. Let it howl, clamor and coat. There is much promise and time is our friend. Green is on its way. Snow? Protect our planting grounds under your purity, the universal blanket that shrouds so much in lovely grandeur.

Leonard Moorehead is a life-long gardener. He practices organic-bio/dynamic gardening techniques in a side lot surrounded by city neighborhoods in Providence RI. His adventures in composting, wood chips, manure, seaweed, hay and enormous amounts of leaves are minor distractions to the joy of cultivating the soil with flowers, herbs, vegetables, berries, and dwarf fruit trees.