I admit it, when daytime temperatures are in the 30′s F, I tend to dawdle inside the house. I wash things with detail—
take cozy late morning naps on the loveseat—
then create wholesome hot lunches—
then force myself into a warm down work jacket, wool cap, heavy jeans, and Bean boots. Once outdoors, with pruning tools in hand,
I begin by observing branches of either crepe myrtles or dogwood that often require annual surgery.
Winter is the perfect time to observe the skeleton or bones of the garden. Deciduous plants, shrubs, and trees reveal both strengths and weakness, permitting the astute gardener a chance to alter branches and crown before the end of dormancy.
Late yesterday afternoon I climbed to the top rung of my ladder to reach numerous myrtle branches that needed editing. Regrettably, I must find a taller ladder to finish that task, so today I approached the lone dogwood.
With a light hand—almost a meditative process for me—the dogwood succumbed to its procedure and is now rid of dead, damaged, touching branches. Alas, I can only reach one-third of the way up the crown, yet when I locate that ladder or person with a ladder, both myrtles and dogwood will be in great shape for the upcoming growing season.
Tomorrow is Saturday and the weather forecast is for rain and sleet.
I am so tempted to bring the old bird-cage indoors to apply the rusty metal primer, yet the warning label forbids this type of application. I must await 50 degree F mercury to proceed with my projects.
I have gone about as far as I can go…
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