Front Porch: Putting garden to bed and thinking of spring

I am winding down the task of getting my yard ready for winter, along with just about everyone else in the region.

As gardens go, mine isn’t all that big or elaborate, and it’s divided into two spaces. There are the relatively deer-safe flowers and plants in the front yard and the snacks-for-deer ones that live in containers on my elevated deck.

The deck is easier to clear for the most part, though it did offer challenges during the growing season. Last year a friend gave me one dahlia, which bloomed in a pot on the deck. This year, I ventured forth with more, and I placed them in five pots.

Staking them was a bit of a problem as they grew taller, and some of this season’s high winds kept knocking them over. So I moved them back against the deck railing and tied them to it, which turned them into a lovely buffet for squirrels, whom I caught sitting atop the deck railing happily munching away.

I moved them yet again, away from the rail but up against other pots, giving them some stability – and distance from would-be diners. I’m still new(-ish) to the gardening world and still learning. We did get some spectacular blooms, which we enjoyed seeing from our vantage in the living room and, of course, out on the deck.

My dahlia friend suggested that instead of digging the tubers out, to put the pots in the garage over the winter and see if they survive. And so that’s what I’ve done.

I also had a sunflower in a container, one that grew so tall, affixed to the railing, that I wound up using a telescoping pruning pole as a stake to keep it from falling over.

The front yard is a different story. There I had geraniums, SunPatiens, salvia, marigolds and a few “safe” flowering shrubs. I did my usual hanging of Irish Spring soap hunks inside tea balls and distributed them about. Those, plus my regular spraying of a homemade deer repellent, kept the front-yard flowers safe for the season.

A mistake I made with the azalea last year was to not protect it in the winter. The deer stripped all the leaves and buds, so this spring I had a charming little all-stick shrublet that didn’t flower. I have just put up some wire fencing around it and surrounded it in pine needles to see if that will help it survive the winter intact.

The tougher project was the irises. A few years ago, in a not-well-thought-out move, we put some in, given to us by a neighbor. The only sunny spot I had for them was on a steep embankment at the side of my front yard, amid rocks and in front of some tall pine trees. Putting them in was quite a feat. The difficulty in planting them should have told me something about tending them. But alas, it didn’t.

Weeding was difficult, and cutting them back in the fall even more so. Since my balance isn’t great, I grabbed an old ski pole and carefully maneuvered my way uphill into the irises, with a bucket in my free hand. Not a pretty sight. As I can no longer kneel comfortably, I stand and bend at the waist (thankfully, my back allows me to do that) to reach the irises to do whatever the day’s task might be. That, of course, stretches my hamstrings and thigh muscles, which then speak to me for the next few days.

Maneuvering in is one thing. Maneuvering out is another. I can’t back down or walk down safely, so I go over the top, often stepping on the plants themselves so as not to trip over a rock or stumble and fall. This year, I postponed the iris pruning to last week, which, because it was so late in the season, also involved pulling out dead and somewhat slimy leaves.

I know … whine, whine, whine.

I am not a natural gardener. The so-called gardening “dirt therapy” my friends speak of fondly, I just don’t get. I entered the arena late in life, more out of curiosity than anything else. I love the final result, the colors and surprises that Mother Nature provides (with some assistance), but the process – not so much.

I could get help with this, even hire someone, if need be – and that day may come. But while I can still do this thing, I think I should. Balance doesn’t get better by not challenging it a bit.

So, the goodnight garden project is pretty much done now, and I have vowed – as I do every year – that I won’t do as much next spring, that I’ll dig out the irises, that I’ll have fewer containers on the deck, that I’ll just enjoy the green things that live in the yard year-round, with maybe a smattering of geraniums, and just call it good.

But as I look out at the Karl Foerster grasses moving gently in the breeze, I think how nice it would all be if there were some color out there. So I know that when the snows leave and the apple trees bloom, I’ll be at it again.

I may have come late to the party, but I’m here now.