Recording The Weather

Frost warnings have been posted through the weekend. 

In these nights on either side of the full moon, there is a good chance for cold air to sweep down in the wee hours, leaving us with another round of damaged plants and blighted trees.

Since the killing frost of mid-April we've noticed some of the trees along the lane starting to show new leaf growth; not the usual bursting into leaf of a normal springtime, but a more hesitant and scanty second showing  of green.

Surely several additional rounds of freezing temperatures may be more than trees and plants can bear.

We have rounded up empty buckets, heavy bins, the largest of our plant pots, and upended them over the tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers set into the ground last Sunday when afternoon temperatures reached 80 F.

Jim has swathed his strawberry beds in layers of old quilts and plastic tarps.

My peonies are in heavy bud.

I despaired of a way to shelter them, but Jim rigged a tarp which, barring wind, should keep out the frost.

Not trusting temperatures in the greenhouse overnight, I improvised coverings for the smaller tomato plants, shrouded the recovering pot of nasturtiums in a large plastic bag, laid various coverings over flats of tender signet marigolds and nigella. 

 One of the trees along the lane which has managed a second crop of tiny leaves.

Along the rustic fence, the lower buds of the foxglove are showing color.

Seedlings of Sutton's Apricot were most vigorous last spring and it appears that much of my planting will be 'apricot' in color.

 Pinks raised from seed were evergreen through the winter.

 Billows of wild cranesbill are flourishing this spring.

Clumps of spiderwort [tradescantia] have appeared where the western boundary of our property tips into the ravines.

Springtime is always a season of false starts, of balmy days when plants rush into new growth, putting forth buds that may well be blighted by a return of wintry blasts.

April predictably  finds me grumbling about this, hovering over my cherished perennials, poking my fingers into chilly soil, going out each morning to check for the progress or the regression of my gardens.

It was the habit of my Grampa Mac to record daily weather in his brief diary entries and to look back to see if the current season was on track with other years.

I've done this over the past few days, reading through some of my blog posts for April and early May in Kentucky.

While April has usually brought days of cold rain and cloudy skies, I've verified that this spring of 2020 has indeed  been a slow one.

In other years foxglove and peonies started to bloom before the first days of May; local strawberries were available by May 8th, rows of kale and Swiss chard were flourishing and green beans had sprouted. 

This year the second planting of beans seems to be going the way of the first--seeds rotting in cold wet earth.  The Swiss chard has emerged but is not exactly growing apace.

These next few nights will present challenges.

It isn't possible to cover the stands of foxglove or to wrap and protect the clematis vines.

The trees along the lane stand with their fragile leaves again vulnerable.

We've done what we can in the way of protection for our gardens, but the mighty caprices of weather leave us feeling daunted and diminished.

Gardeners need a goodly dose of optimism to deal with fickle weather and seasons.