Miscellany Of Weeks Past

Spring is in full bloom here in Southern Connecticut, and I've been dividing my time between numerous projects here at the Hawkins house. Unfortunately, that hasn't left much time for worthwhile writing, but I feel long over-due to post something, so here's some photos taken over the past couple of weeks and accompanying commentary. And I'll try to publish a more purposeful and coherent posting or two during the next few days. In the meantime, hope you enjoy the few random snippets here...

This is my garden armillary sundial, which is quite nice. You'll notice, though, that it's gnomon is missing both it's arrow head and tail. About two seasons ago, this sundial took an unfortunate fall from a garden wall, breaking both pieces off. Fixing it is no big deal -- just a matter of cutting two appropriately sized pieces of 1/4" brass rod, threading each end, and screwing it all back together. But it's one of those bothersome small tasks that just doesn't manage to get scheduled. The sundial is going to be the centerpiece of my forthcoming colonial herb garden at the house, so maybe that will provide me enough incentive to finally fix it. Maybe.



Since my location is 41 degrees N. latitude, I used a protractor to angle the gnomon at precisely 41 degrees. The gnomon needs to point true North and align with the earth's axis for the sundial to work properly. Not too imprecise a measurement, eh?



The future site of the hypothetical colonial herb garden. This part of the yard gets nearly constant sun through out the day. The garden will be situated on the opposite side of the path, just this side of the decorative grass, and replacing the patch of crab grass in the foreground. It will be bordered by 4 x 4 cedar posts, and feature two small foot paths through the center, emanating from the sundial:



Close-up of the decorative maiden grass in the side yard, and all the grape hyacinth and lilies that appear in the early spring. This photo was taken a good number of weeks ago. The hyacinth and lilies are actually gone now, and have been replaced by these white perennials that I cannot readily identify. It's an interesting dance that takes place here every springtime. Yet another (small) project of mine is to complete the encirclement of the grassy patch with a large assortment of perennials, so there's always something interesting going on through out the entire spring, summer, and early fall:



The early springtime ritual of planting annuals in hanging baskets is shown in the next few photos. This year, we planted red and yellow marigolds, yellow pansies, and some dark purple flower whose name eludes me at the current moment. I was going for somewhat contrasting colors this year, just for kicks. (Oh yeah, there's a couple of herbs there, too; rosemary and basil):



Hanging baskets in various stages of completion. The mums I had planted last fall survived the winter and are growing like crazing now (all green -- no flower buds for a while yet). So I will have them to re-display in the fall time:



A completed large basket:



Two of the larger baskets deployed on the entry porch. Since this photo was taken, I've also installed two candle lanterns on each of the front posts supporting the roof:



Newly planted herbs and tomatoes, respectively, in wooden containers on, or in the vicinity of, my front porch. These plants are patiently waiting for me to finish digging the potagers and herb garden, of course, and are demonstrating their enthusiasm by growing bigger, and bigger, and bigger, and...



This photo shows stone remnants of an ancient terraced garden that is mostly buried by earth and covered by various growth out behind the house. There are a number of interesting, random plants still thriving out there, including some roses and rasberry bushes, not to mention lots of poison ivy! One of my big summer projects is to resurrect this garden, but there's just so little time. We'll see how far I get. If I can get even the basic garden unearthed and well-defined, I would be satisfied with it for this season:



This buckboard table graces the other end of my mudroom. Can you believe that some one in my neighborhood had left this out curb-side to be taken away with the trash? I was driving by one rainy night in my pickup truck and noticed it's outline in the street light (I know, it sounds like a sad story of hyperbolic abandonment, doesn't it? But it's true!) I stopped, threw it in the back of my truck, and it's been a fine friend and fellow traveler ever since:



Lavendar and chives (container herbs) are flowering right now (I took this photo just yesterday). They are likewise awaiting their move to the big hypothetical herb garden in the side yard, with armillary sundial, cedar borders, and well-defined paths. We'll see...



And what posting of outdoor activities would be complete without some mention of the various animal friends who like to drop by on occasion and try to figure out what manner of weirdness I am currently occupying my time with?

Here, one of the neighborhood cats came visiting out behind the house, and hung out for a while by the old overturned wheel barrow and deteriorating saw-buck:



And here, one of those ubiquitous crows was gingerly walking down the drive way, inspecting things (perhaps keeping an eye out for the cat). I was actually amazed how far he trotted along on foot before finally flying up into the trees. I took this photo from the window of my study, through the old glass -- hence the noticeable blur just in front of the crow. The old stone wall in the background is an ancient remnant of the cow farm that once existed here, up until about fifty years ago.



There are many interesting trees in bloom right now, including dogwood, lilac, red maple, and various pines, plus many other annuals and flowering shrubs. Almost exactly one year ago, I created a posting with photos of many of these blooms. If you're interested in viewing further, you can see that posting by clicking here.

Kale by Numbers

[Gardens, or yards, as the inhabitants called them, were stored with gigantic plants of Kale or Colewort - Scott (Waverly)]

This past winter, I attempted an experiment in wintering kale, in which I covered three plants with a natural mulch, and then let nature take its course. The plants spent a good deal of their time under layers of snow, in sub-freezing temperatures, for this past winter was a rather severe one by coastal Connecticut standards.

One plant didn't survive and I found it rotted in the springtime. Another appeared to have been eaten by something (perhaps those two marauding squirrels who also sought refuge from the cold in my attic?). But the third plant survived just fine. In fact, it looked down-right bright and healthy, for all it had endured. So I removed it from the ground and placed it in a large plastic flower pot. This is how the kale looked exactly two weeks ago:



And this is how it looked today:



Yes, we've had quite a bit of warm, sunny weather the past two weeks, and also quite a few rainy days. In fact, the past three days have seen nothing but rain, and things are just growing like crazy!

But I have never seen kale looking quite like this ever before . When I purchased this plant last fall, it was more cabbage-like than anything else. But now it has taken on the appearance of a true flowering plant. My guess is that it will flower in another month's time and go to seed. I have read where kale, which are not good hot weather plants, get into a distressed state as soon as the weather warms up, and then produce their seeds.

In any event, I'll be watching this guy closely, and with any luck, I'll have a nice brood of new, young kale to border my front pathway come the fall. Of course, I will do my best to keep this plant alive during the hot summer, even storing it down in the cool basement during the hot weather, if that will keep it from withering.

Here are two more somewhat random photos. Below are various collards that I purchased recently, which are also growing like mad with all the sun and rain. I am in the process of planting a total of three gardens this year -- two potagers, and a colonial herb garden. The collards will, of course, go into one of the potagers, along with various other edible plants that I am likewise growing in containers until ground is broken:



And this is an antique dry-sink in my mudroom, which I use for various planting activities. The dry-sink still has its original copper liner, which is quite an interesting piece of metalwork and also very convenient. In the nursery tray below, I've planted two types of large garden beans, sequoias, and dragon tongue (36 of each):



Naturally, these beans will go into one of the potagers after they've matured in a few weeks. To support the beans, I'm constructing natural tuteurs from some old maple branches that I've collected and am right now peeling and whittling down a little. They should like quite nice once they are in place.

Kale and Thoughts on the Little Ice Age

It seems like we've had our first real taste of winter these past five days; unseasonably cold and blustery, with mid-day temperatures never above 40 degrees and plumeting down into the mid-twenties at night. The pansies and mums I have in two hanging baskets out front nearly bought it the other day when I'd left them outside until merely an hour after sunset. Fortunately, the protection of a relatively warmer night in the basement seemed to revive them (at least somewhat).


Kale thriving in mostly sub-freezing weather

By comparison, the dwarf kale I had planted out back is not only surviving, but apparently thriving, in this sudden cold. The plants are noticeably larger than they were just a few weeks ago. This is truly a cold weather loving plant. But none the less, this winter is predicted to be a severe one, and as soon as there is a slight rise in temperature, I'll properly protect them with a cover of mulch.

All the upstairs rooms of the Hawkins House, except for the hall chamber, lack hot-air registers. In these conditions, they take a long time to warm up, as hot air slowly circulates out from the hall chamber, as well as upwards from the first floor. These unheated rooms always remain on the cool side, and begin to chill rapidly as soon as the furnace shuts off. This is something I'll need to address in my plans to improve the heating system next year.

However, it got me thinking about what life in the house was like in the distant past.

Winters in colonial New England were generally far more severe than what we've experienced in modern times. In fact, many climatologists agree that there was a general dip in temperatures in Europe and North America, from around the mid-seventeenth century until the late nineteenth century, a period sometimes referred to as The Little Ice Age.



My house's early occupants had endured far more severe and prolonged cold than I will perhaps ever experience in my life time. It's hard to imagine what it was like trying to stay warm on those frigid winter nights, the entire family huddled together in the kitchen or great room, directly in front of the largest fireplace in the house. Some one had to ensure that the fire remained stoked throughout the night, and no one dared venture away from the flames and into the outer rooms.

[ This house is frozen brittle, all except this room you sit in. - Robert Frost, "Snow" ]

So why am I complaining about a mere 11 degrees below average, over just a few days in November?


The BRT on Christmas Eve, about one month after this posting, with an interesting wind-blown slab on its roof.

An Experiment in Winter Planting

Today, I planted three white kale in a row, in a location of the yard that will continue to get a lot of sunlight during the day, even as the sun angle decreases with the onset of winter. This is a simple experiment in late season planting and winter growing inspired by an article I recently read in the 2009 Old Farmer's Almanac.

My plan is to build a small wooden box around the kale and fill it with about a foot of organic mulch before the Big Freeze really settles in. Through out the winter, I'll occasionally harvest small quantities of kale, water during the warm spells, and see if I can keep this process going through out January, February, and into March.


Kale row in a sunny part of the yard


The afternoon sun is casting long shadows now, as demonstrated by a tall weed growing through the walkway; this is by far the sunniest part of the yard year-round, and the future site of a large, bordered herb garden

While looking over some of the containers out front, I couldn't help but notice that the pollinators that had been so busy merely a month ago are all gone now. With the exception of a few very small flies flitting around the flowers, there was no more of that frantic activity during the sunny hours of the late mornings and afternoons that I had come to enjoy so much. Of course, winter is nearly upon us, and the bees are done collecting their pollen, having stored it all away in anticipation of the vernal birth of the next generation of their bee progeny.

However, I did come across one honey bee -- extremely large and lathargic, he appeared to be completely sacked of energy from the recent cold spell. He wasn't flying, rather just crawling around on one of the containers. It looked like he wanted a comfortable location to camp out, so I managed to get him to cling to a small twig, and placed the twig just below a canopy of salvia. He was still sluggishly exploring the contours of his twig when I wandered off to do a few other things.

Later, I returned to the salvia, and he was gone. Perhaps he had some other spot in mind to begin his journey into that good night. Meanwhile, down the street, and away from the house, I could hear the murmurings of the busy inhabitants of my own eco-system -- children and their parents, gradually emerging from their homes, to enjoy this relatively mild evening and the celebration of yet another All Hallows Eve.

This day is done, and the darkness falls from the wings of Night
- Longfellow

Early Fall Day

Today's was a quintessential New England fall day. Cool, crisp, and slightly blustery, with large clouds slowly scudding across the sky and occassionally blocking out the sun. I worked at home, and in the morning, went out to water and tend the herbs, including several salvia (azure sage, or salvia azurea) I recently purchased.

The honey bees were having a field day with the salvia, which had gone from a relatively flat to a deeply flourescent blue, just a few days ago. There were easily five or six bees buzzing about them, collecting pollen and consolidating it in those small sacks on their hind legs.


Two honey bees in the salvia (just left of center of photo); close-up of a third bee


Honey bee alighting on salvia bloom; another with his orange pollen sack

Back around early August, I purchased four additional herbs: Two basil and two marjoram. I have several round (barrel-shaped), wooden containers that I've used for various plantings the past few years, including several small conifers that decorated the front porch last winter.

Since then, the conifers moved to permanent homes in the side yard, and the containers were excessively weathered and slightly insect-damaged in spots. I repaired the damaged areas by bushing on a waterproof wood glue, and later re-stained the outside surfaces with Minwax Wood Finish (#222, Sedona Red).

Even though it's not intended for outdoor use, the Minwax is what I had on hand, and since these are fairly rough pieces, it didn't particularly bother me if they started to fade and weather again come winter.

Basil and marjoram in re-finished wooden containers; yet another bee, enjoying the basil flowers

In each container, I planted a single basil and marjoram plant. And after two months, the basil plants had grown to enormous sizes, and began flowering just a little over a week ago. The marjoram is also quite substantial compared to when it was planted, but the basil is truly prodigious, and its fragrance pervades the entry porch area where the containers sit most of the time.

Subsequently, I had repaired the three remaining containers, and during a late morning break today, completed re-staining two of them. Just about that time, UPS showed up to deliver a map chest I had ordered. It's very nicely made, and a highly utilitarian piece of furniture, with nine flat drawers for organizing flat-laying documents, drawings, designs, etc. I am going to use it to store my various architectural, restoration, and woodworking designs and plans. It found it's way into the spinning room, which I'm using as an additional reading & writing room, the southeast chamber being my main work area and computer room.


Re-staining containers in the spinning room; the newly delivered map chest

A little while later, as I was looking over the two stained containers, it struck me that perhaps tung or walnut oil might've been a better choice of finish. At least it's more environmentally friendly. So when I have another free moment, I'll give it a try on the last container and see what sort of results I get.


Recently stained containers; about 3" of gravel ought to help drainage and keep most bugs out


Blue sages in their newly finished container homes...

Butterfly in the blue salvia; BRT by the north side of the house and a lot of early afternoon sunlight filtering through the trees

Midsummer Blooms

The green things growing whisper me, of many an earth-old mystery - Rexford

Midsummer saw many a wild and crazy thing blooming in the yard, particularly in the herb boxes. The cilantro transformed itself into coriander, almost overnight, propelling its seed pods skyward to dizzying heights -- so high, I had to stake it to keep its stalks from breaking.


Thyme blossoms and coriander; corriander seed pods

On the other side of walkway, the sage, lavendar, tarragon, and oregano all had grown considerably large, with the oregano and lavendar in particular sending off some remarkable blooms...


Oregano, lavendar, taragon and sage; a lavendar blossom


Tarragon and oregano; oregano blossoms in all their glory

Close-up of the oregano blossoms

The hasta on either side of the front walkway are likewise producing their flowers now...

Meanwhile, honey bees, wasps, and other important pollinators, daily visit these blossoms, and I am glad to see that happening.

An ant enjoying the coriander flowers