Hello, friends!
It’s January, a time when colleagues, neighbors and friends seem to utter the same words at the very sight of me: “Slow season, eh?”
Actually, no. There is no slow season as a gardener.
January is when the gardening catalogs start filling up the mailbox — and when I give the ink in my Sharpie a good workout, circling heirloom tomatoes (and some especially good hybrids, like my favorite Big Boys), newly bred perennials and some plants that have been on my wish list forever but never quite made it into the garden (will this be the year Harry Lauder’s walking stick finally calls my front yard home?)
This is also the month when I dust off my seed supplies. It’s too early to put them to work, of course, but I want to be sure they’re ready when I am. I need to order a replacement fluorescent bulb for my grow lights, and maybe I’ll spend one of my newly acquired gift cards on a proper heating mat to help coax seeds into seedlings.
As I look out my kitchen window, I see evidence of my slacking. Those tomato plants I meant to pull up in October somehow escaped eviction, now a mere horizontal shadow of their former selves. I’m thinking I’ll yank up the plants but leave the stray, partially decomposed tomatoes on the ground, where their seeds just might survive winter and sprout at precisely the right time next spring. It’s not exactly following the rule book, but plants don’t read books — or The Weekly Dirt — and sometimes they just do their own thing. In fact, the best tomatoes I ever grew were born of a happy accident in a compost pile.
Speaking of compost, the contents of the tumbler will need to be tumbled. And I really should carry out the compiled kitchen scraps to join them. That will require putting on a coat and trudging across the backyard.
Near a sunny window in the upstairs bathroom sits Lila, a behemoth spider plant given to my daughter by her advisers as she began her freshman year in college. There was an obvious lesson to be learned: As Lila grew from a mere cutting to a mature houseplant, my daughter was to become introspective and notice she, too, was growing, as well — broadening her horizons and blossoming, if you will, in her knowledge and maturity. But Lila never made it back to campus after vacationing at my house that first winter break, and so the lesson-learning fell to me. I haven’t, thank goodness, had 76 babies, as Lila has, but I have learned some important things over the years:
Sometimes you outgrow your comfort zone and need a change of scenery (or circumstance or routine) in order to grow. I’ve had to replant Lila four times so far, each time into a bigger pot to accommodate her ever-growing root system. It’s always a little scary (will the move stress her out too much?), but in time she always settles in nicely and grows larger and stronger because of that difficult experience.
Beauty will only get you so far. I’m a sucker for color, and in the past my choices in houseplants have been Amaryllis, paperwhites and the occasional African violet. The first two are fleeting, sticking around for a couple of months while you pour all your blood, sweat and tears into them and then leaving you like a kid off to college. The paperwhites get tossed, and I save the Amaryllis for the next year, but invariably forget where I stashed them. As far as the violets are concerned, they don’t like me very much and, after several betrayals, the feeling has become mutual. Simple Lila, however, with her spiky, striped and steadfast green foliage, isn’t much of a looker, but, boy, is she loyal.
If you want to be successful, in life and in the garden, you need to plan ahead. And this is why I spend January thumbing through catalogs, assessing seed-starting supplies and cooking compost.
Coming next week: Pet-safe houseplants (Spoiler: Lila is among them.)
📬Question of the week
DEAR JESSICA: I moved last year to a house in North Woodmere and haven’t had time to address our landscaping just yet. There is a bush growing next to our front door that has had some white growth on it that increasingly developed over six to eight weeks over summer. Please take a look at this photo and let me know if you know what this is and if we should be concerned. —Abraham Teitelbaum
DEAR ABRAHAM: Your shrub seems to be infected with powdery mildew, an unsightly fungal disease that thrives in moist or humid conditions.
The best way to prevent its spread is to thin the bush by pruning out crowded branches to allow for better air circulation within the plant. Dispose of affected plant material in the trash (never compost or allow it to remain on the soil under or around plants) and avoid overhead watering, which would allow fungal spores to multiply and spread to other plants.
This isn’t the best time to prune plants, so, for now, I recommend you ensure fallen leaves and other plant debris are cleared and thrown away. Do the thinning in March, before the plant emerges from dormancy, then watch for a reoccurrence in spring.
If new foliage shows symptoms, nip it in the bud by spraying with neem oil, taking care to coat all plant parts, including the undersides of leaves. Follow package directions for dosing guidance.
Neem oil is a natural pesticide derived from the seeds of the neem tree. It is effective against soft-bodied insects and fungal diseases of plants, but can damage them if applied too heavily; again, follow package directions.
Photo courtesy Abraham Teitelbaum
💡If you do one thing this week…
Go on a hunt-and-destroy mission through the garden, inspecting tree branches (and patio furniture and other surfaces) for gypsy moth egg cases, which look like gray or beige wads of used chewing gum.
Each mass contains up to 1,000 eggs, so scraping them off now and dropping them into a bucket of hot, soapy water to kill them will go a long way toward reducing their next generation’s population. Be sure to wear gloves.
👏 Sunday shoutout
Steve Haimowitz shared this photo of what he calls the “mutant sunflower” he grew in his garden last summer. This scene is just what I needed in the middle of January!
Send in your photo, and you might be featured next (include the names of people depicted, as well as the person who shot the photo and your/their permission for its use here in The Weekly Dirt.)
Photo courtesy of Steve Haimowitz
🌱📅It’s January — do you know where your gardening calendar is?
If you had my 2021 Day-by-Day Gardening Calendar, you’d know exactly what you should be doing today — and every day of the year — to keep your houseplants healthy, your crops producing and your garden beautiful.
Every daily box contains a little nudge from me to you: a timely chore or tip to keep your garden on track all year long. Order yours here.
📧Send me your feedback!
I welcome your comments and suggestions, so please send them along — as well as any topics you’d like to see covered and questions you’d like answered in the Question of the Week section.
If you’re sending photos of your garden, please include your full name and the name of anyone depicted, your hometown, details about your plant or garden, the name of the person who took the photo, and a sentence granting permission for its use in this newsletter and archives.
Of houseplants and life...
I am new to composting. Could you please provide some helpful tips and suggestions on compost?
I am interested in buying your daily garden calendar. How do you handle the months like January, May and October of 2021. Do you have a box for each day or do you try to put all the info into one box with slash. Your calendar in Newsday didn't do that. Thank you,