We have had May in April and now March in May. We enjoyed the early warm weather and, with no forecast of freeze, moved all of our containers out of the greenhouse. Containers, large and small, went on to the front porch and patio, the deck, and up into my garden. It was not a full week later foretasted weather changed and we saw three nights of freeze warnings back to back.
Many of the containers were move up on to the porch and covered, some went back into the greenhouse, and the larger ones I moved to my garden were gathered in one sheltered location and covered.
In my excitement and celebration of early spring I began transplanting earlier than normal. Begin with in tender Asian perennials, add in newly emerging green noses and disaster was in the making. Some plants got covered with cardboard boxes, others with Styrofoam boxes and in one area I used blankets. The rest of the garden simply had to ride it out. Many of the plants were killed back from earlier frosts and now were hit harder than ever once more.
While moving three heavy containers from the deck to my office my wife and I shared the weight. When setting the last large container down we almost bumped heads, and she looked me directly in the eye while saying “Tell me again. Just why are we doing this?” In and out, out and in, shuffle those pots.
One More Time
This afternoon it is supposed to warm up a bit and I will be removing the covers from my tender perennials, take the protection from containers and move them back into place. Porch and patio, deck, get reshuffled once more. One would think appropriate music would be written for the dance we gardeners do. Something besides the Russian classic Volga Boatmen, or lyrics from Showboat like “lift that barge, tote that bale.”
By after dinner, I will be feeling all smug and self-satisfied for accomplishing all that manual labor and having my gardening world back in order. While Homo sapiens humans remember pain in order to avoid future behaviors that can inflict pain, Homo sapiens ssp. gardener seems to be missing that vital gene. I will keep on waltzing with the weather, shuffling along, and wondering where I can purchase that next plant.