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After a long dry spell in the writing department (precipitated by an enormous load of landscape work this Spring, Summer, and Fall—thank you, everyone), it is time to prepare and settle in for the Winter.  I’m hoping this Winter will afford me some time for writing and let me get back to my blog.  I admire writers who write in their blogs daily; it takes an enormous amount of discipline and a good deal of time, as well.

As I write this, it is 25F outside.  We had our first deep freeze last night here at my house.  Up until yesterday, my annuals were blooming strong and still looking good.  I spent an hour yesterday pulling them out of the pots and window boxes so I wouldn’t have to pull out mushy annuals after the freeze.   My Japanese maples are now in glorious color—fire engine red—what a pleasure to work amongst them yesterday.  This is one of the latest hard freezes I can remember, though I don’t think the latest—I believe we’ve had a late freeze as late as early December, a couple of years, since I’ve been in this house.   I’m not going to clean up one leaf until all the leaves fall—and there are still quite a few on the trees, so the yard is quite a mess, but still pretty, in its own way.

Sadly, I must remove the big, two-trunked Chestnut Oak in my front yard.  It has always dominated the front of my house.  We’ve been babying it for years—feeding, trimming, treating—and I finally gave in a couple of years ago and decided to let it die a natural death.  My excellent arborist, Kurt Mohr of Bartlett Tree, told me that I must remove the tree when the trunk closest to my house (the smaller trunk) dies, as this trunk helps to balance the larger, heavier trunk that leans over the street.  Overnight, it seems, over the Summer, the trunk’s leaves turned brown and held on—a sure sign that it had expired.  I’m having the tree removed this Winter, and I am ready to let it go.  It has lived a long life and given everyone much pleasure.  I’ve had a Live Oak growing next to it for about 15 years now, and the newer oak has gotten to about 20 feet, so it will quickly fill in once it can occupy the space taken up by the old tree.

What I’ve missed most after losing these big trees, either by storm or death, is the wonderful cathedral column effect given by the huge trunks.  On the other hand, I’ve reveled in the additional light that comes in when trees are removed.  Suddenly, I can grow many more varieties of plants.

I think one thing gardening teaches is an appreciation for the cycles and seasons of life.  Each loss in the garden is an opportunity to try something new, so all is not lost.

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