Gardeners make their share of New Year’s resolutions. Every January I vow to stay on top of weeds, fertilizing and deadheading with the same sincerity that others swear this is the year they will absolutely, positively lose the extra pounds. In our midwinter musings, every year is potentially perfect. No hailstorms, aphid-ridden columbines or scorching heat ruin the image. The worst scenario is – heaven forbid – a color clash.
But the resolutions that really count are made in July. This month is the gardener’s reality test. Failings and bad destiny have become all too real. After five hailstorms, the apple tree looks to be a goner. Prickly lettuce the size of Sherman tanks has sprung up all over the garden. Rose buds were mummified before they had a chance to bloom. To top it off, the entire garden has turned a sickly shade of yellow.
The yellow foliage probably is not my fault. One of the hailstorms arrived on a watering day (yes, my water provider still dictates watering days) when the weather forecasters said there was no chance whatsoever of rain. Naturally, the rain started within minutes after I’d finished giving the garden a thorough soaking.
Within a week the garden was jaundiced. A search of gardening literature revealed the following from the Ortho Home Garden Problem Solver: “Manganese deficiency … leaf yellowing … usually occurs in sand, alluvial silt, and clay soils. It is more common where pH is over 7.5. Symptoms may appear suddenly after a heavy rainfall, since soggy soil may impede manganese release to plants.”
Spraying with a chelated iron product seems to have reversed the symptom, whatever the cause.
When I climbed into a flowerbed to pull prickly lettuce, I noticed the winter mulch of fallen leaves is still on the ground. Several small treasures have perished beneath the mulch.
Back in April, removing the leaves would have involved only a couple of passes with a rake. Now it’s a hellish job, picking up one handful of leaves at a time from between the flowers. Many handfuls contain formerly live plant parts and flowers as well as leaves. Plus I look as if I’ve been thrown into a closet full of angry cats, so scratched am I from reaching beneath shrubs and between clumps of cacti.
As I inventory spring tasks that remain unfinished, the most embarrassing is the annual flowers I grow from seed. A friend to whom I gave several six-packs reports that his are now a foot tall and an impressive sight. Mine, still living on the back patio in six-packs, are a pathetic 2 inches tall. The hours I spent on these plants could have been better spent watching “The Bachelorette.”
You can probably guess a few of my July 2006 resolutions.
Marcia Tatroe is a garden writer and lecturer. E-mail her at rltaurora@aol.com.
