Native

I read a new book by Douglas W. Tallamy, Bringing Nature Home: How native plants sustain wildlife in our gardens. Tallamy writes that gardeners could slow the rate of extinction by planting natives in their yards.

Inspired, I called the handsome young landscaper that I hired (and blogged about) last January. He gave me an estimate and promised to come back the following week.

The crape myrtle is gone, Lizziebrod. The blooms were colorful but the tree was like a pretty boy in a Calvin Klein ad -- of no use except to unsavory characters, like Japanese beetles. Removing it made room for a native tree, a blackhaw (Viburnum prunifolium) to cross pollinate with its mate across the driveway.

Blackhaw is not a showy tree. Clusters of white flowers in spring are followed in summer by purple fruit, eagerly consumed by birds. The tree is the optimum size for the understory, 15 feet when mature, and several hours of afternoon sun is sufficient for healthy growth.

I wrote author Tallamy an email and he responded the next day. Within the week, the crape myrtle removed and a raised bed was filled with a 50-50 topsoil/compost mixture and anchored by stones. The crape myrtle and daylilies were replaced with native blackhaw viburnum and stokes asters.

Green and brown

This week marks the coldest of the year, on average. To celebrate the event, Nature is bringing on a blast of bitter weather that is beyond anything seen in years. Single digit temperatures are expected on Friday night and in daylight, the temperatures will stay in the 30's. This may sound balmy to relatives in the Midwest, but to us, it is just Cold.

In winter, the best days come after rain, when the air is soft and still, almost warm. Wet leaves blanket garden beds in tones of tan and taupe. The trunks of trees form punctuation marks in varied shades of gray. Underneath the soil, the roots are resting from a long growing season that lasts from March through November.

Winter lasts only the first two months of the calendar year. By mid-January, the buds of narcissus are pushing though the leaves. It is a slow wake-up to spring, which comes with the equinox in North Carolina.

As I look at garden photos from years past, I am surprised by the fullness of a green summer, the abundance of lush summer foliage. I count the days until I can see the thick rich color of green.

Mailbox

At the entrance to the bird garden is a mailbox that spent its early years beside the concrete driveway at 9 Kitchner Court.

One cold winter morning, the mailbox lay on the lawn by the side of the road, its painted post splintered upon impact with a car. The mailbox was still attached. Against the green grass, the colors were sharp and clear, and inexplicably attractive. An accident had transformed a garish mailbox into an irresistable garden ornament.

The residents of 9 Kitchner Court had already replaced the mailbox with a standard black model on a new post. I walked over and tried to lift the colorful piece off the grass. The wooden post was quite heavy. That night I returned with a minivan and maneuvered the piece into the back.

At the entrance to my bird garden, I nestled the piece within the embrace of a giant azalea, Rhododendron 'George Tabor,' where it welcomes visitors on cold winter days.