Where does the time go?

It took a while for me to get over the shame and remorse I felt after the daffodil episode.  But once the bright yellow flowers faded and I wasn't replaying what happened in my mind every time I went outside and saw them, I was able to somewhat put that behind me.  I don't think my sadness over what happened will ever go away, but I think "behind me" is good.

The end of the daffodil blooms means that it's time for spring gardening to start.  Things like lettuce, cabbage and broccoli can be transplanted outside, and potatoes and peas can be planted.

That's how it's supposed to work anyway. 

Winter 2025-2026 was very dry.  We were actually under a burn ban on New Year's Day and during the entire month of January, we only got 0.65" of rain (compare that to 5.39" in January 2025 and 5.08" in January 2024).

On top of that, the temperatures were warmer than what seems should be "normal" for spring.  Many of the trees and shrubs started budding out by early March, only to be hit by a killer cold snap on March 17, when our temperature dropped to 19° F.  Many of the trees and shrubs that had gotten that early start were set back significantly.  The things I had planted out in the garden were just killed outright.

But spring officially began on March 20, right on schedule, with a firey orange sun shining through a haze of smoke from a prescribed burn.

Sunrise at 7:26 am on March 20, 2026

And just three days later (five days after we had the low of 19°), our temperature hit 92.3° F.

For the first time since September 2021 when I planted my first cover crops, the plants struggled.  By the end of March, the cereal rye was only a couple of inches taller than the plants were at the start of March 2025, and they weren't nearly as dark green.

The cereal rye/hairy vetch cover crop at the far end of the garden on March 29.

Really, nothing in the garden showed the "spring enthusiasm" that I expected to see.  Even the winter weeds like Henbit and Red Deadnettle didn't grow that much this year.

February and March were both pretty dry, with less than 2.4" of rain in each of those months.  

To prevent the IBC tanks from freezing last winter, I had drained them, then moved them out by the shop where I plan to build a lean-to shed/greenhouse.

But now with the tanks sitting empty and the winter being so dry, I started worrying about running out of water.  RAF had a good point - that if I needed to water I could just use the "city water."  But one, I prefer to use rainwater if possible, and two, what if was so dry this summer that all outdoor watering was banned?

I priced gutters at the local hardware store and was shocked by how expensive even just a 10' section was.  I just couldn't justify spending that much money for a temporary setup, so I ended up doing some very creating engineering to catch water coming off the shop roof.  It's very tacky, but it works.  

Luckily, we finally did get some rain in April.  By the 21st, the cereal rye and winter wheat cover crops had finally taken off growing.  They still didn't put on as much biomass as they did in 2025, but something was better than nothing.

Cereal rye/hairy vetch and winter wheat cover crops on April 21st.

After the cold snap in March killed off everything in the garden, I replanted, and by mid-April, the Early Frosty peas were about 18" up the trellis.

On the opposite side of the trellis, the Christmas Lima beans were also starting to germinate.

The blackberries were blooming...

...and the potatoes and brassicas in the "Ruth Stout" bed at the end of the garden were putting on some really strong, healthy growth.

The raspberry plants finally started putting out new shoots.

And even the poor little Gala apple tree (which for now seems to have survived the initial attack by fire blight) bloomed and set a few apples!

The fava beans started to bloom and set pods.

And the heads on the winter wheat were starting to plump up.

The celery, bell peppers, snow peas and onions were all growing well. 

Bell pepper plants mulched with leaves from the Red Russian Kale.

The show-out in the garden though, was the strawberries.  This picture doesn't really do a good job of showing just how many berries they had on them - they were absolutely loaded.

We ended up with four or five mixing bowls of strawberries, and I managed to put about a gallon of berries in the freezer.

Then it was May already.  On the 3rd, I decided it was time to go ahead and terminate the cereal rye/hairy vetch cover crop.

There was a decent residue on the rows (not as much as in previous years, but still decent).  I let it dry for a few days, then planted the Kandy corn.

By mid-May, the blueberries were starting to turn.

I estimate that I harvested about a pint of blueberries this year from the three plants.

I set out tomatoes....

..., okra,

...and cantaloupes.

The two yellow squash plants were large and lush and ready to start blooming.

The Early Frosty peas had reached the top of the trellis and were loaded down with small pods.

The Enterprise apple tree had lots of small apples...

...and the apples on the Gala were actually growing.

I was pretty pleased with the garden in May.  In spite of the late start, things seemed to be doing well. 

By the end of May, the corn was getting close to 12" tall.

It grew like crazy in the hot weather of June - by the first day of summer, it was already head high.

The sweet potato plants were loving the heat too.

There were some harvests in June too.  

Onions (mostly small ones, but still...) and fava beans that will be saved for seed.

Potatoes; Tommy Toe tomatoes; bananna peppers; a few green beans; a few cucumbers; and still more strawberries.

By June 24th, the corn had put out tassles.

The Boston Pickling cucumbers (which were volunteers) were making so many cucumbers that I started picking them and just throwing them in a pile on the ground so the vines would stay alive and keep growing. (Sorry youngest daughter...if I had a way to get these to you I would have done it.)

The San Marzano tomatoes were absolutely loaded again.

The okra started to bloom, and there were big green Cherokee Purple tomatoes hanging in clusters on the vines.  The Jupiter bell pepper plants had lots of peppers on them, and the Christmas Lima beans had reached the top of the trellis and started making pods.

But I didn't keep the promise that I made last year about the zinnias.

By the end of June, they were already starting to bloom and I couldn't bear the thought of cutting them out of the walking paths after that.  The flowers came all colors (except for blues):  dark red; light red; pink; fuscia; purple; salmon; orange; yellow; cream and white.

The butterflies and bumblebees loved them.  And I did too.  In my mind, the garden had turned into a beautiful jungle of food plants and flowers and I was not at all displeased about it.

And then came July..........

Failure

One of the earliest signs of spring at our place is the daffodil blooms.

This year, our first daffodil (not the precocious one that bloomed in January) bloomed on February 7.

It wasn't long before the yard many more of the cheerful yellow blooms.  They are always very pretty, brightening what is otherwise often a dull and dreary month.

On Saturday, I had to make a quick run to town for a few things.  When I approached our driveway coming home, a white truck had pulled up, blocking me from turning in.  I stopped in the road with my turn signal blinking, figuring he'd catch on that I was turning in.  He did, but pulled his truck up onto the grass.

Now that's one thing that RAF really hates is for people to drive over his grass.  I supposed the people in the truck were going across the road to visit our neighbors, so I thought, "I'll just ask him to move his truck."

So I pulled in the driveway, got out and walked toward the truck.  The man was getting out, and I said something like, "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't park on our grass."

What happened next made my pitiful brain short circuit I guess.  

The man said, "We are just going to pick some flowers," as he helped a very little girl out of the truck.

I just looked at him.  

I don't remember what I said next, probably something like, "What???" or "You were going to pick our flowers???"  (Like I said, my brain short-circuited.)

I think at that point the man realized that he might have messed up.  He said, "I didn't think anybody lived here."

Where my brain had short-circuited before, now my head exploded.  How could anyone think no one lived here?  The yard was mowed, there was a nice mailbox, the driveway was obviously well used, there was a rocking chair on the front porch...I think my reaction was to feel insulted by him saying that.

I looked at him, kind of threw my hands up in the air toward the daffodils by the mailbox (meaning, Ok, help yourself), walked back to the car and drove off.  As I was walking back to the car, I heard him say again, "I didn't think anybody lived here."

I guess they got back in the truck and left.  I really don't know because I didn't look back.

The more I thought about it, the more upset I got.  Not upset at the man and the little girl, but upset with myself.  The more I thought about it, the more ashamed I was for the way I acted, and my mind starting going over and over and over how I should have handled the whole situation differently.

What would it have hurt to let the little girl (she was a very little girl) pick a flower?  Even a tiny fist full of flowers?   Even every last flower in the yard?  Didn't Jesus say something about suffer not the little children to come unto him?  Wouldn't it have been nice to share some of the yellow cheer with that little girl? 

And the more I thought about it the more wretched I felt.  I often pray for God to show me what to do, and to open my heart to listen when he shows me.  Well, he gave me an opportunity to be kind...and I blew it.

I've fretted over it ever since then, wishing I could just get a do-over and tell the little girl, "Those right there are the biggest, prettiest ones.  Be sure to pick the stem long enough so you can put them in a glass of water."

But most of the time, we don't get a do-over.  My hateful reaction will be what the man and the little girl remember me for.  Yes, he probably should have asked permission instead of just going into a stranger's yard and picking their flowers.  But his actions don't excuse or justify mine.

And while the daffodils are still bright and cheerful, their cheer kind of rings hollow for me right now - I just feel very sad when I look out the window at them.

They remind me that I failed.  I was given a chance to be kind, and I failed.

Ugly snow and frigid cold - farewell January 2026

January 2026 has been...what's the word?  Weird?  Cruel?  Unkind? 

I don't know how to describe it, but honestly, I'm glad that today is the end of it.  I'm not at all sad to see January 2026 in the rearview mirror.

As 2025 ended, the temperature was very warm. We had a high of 81° F on December 27th.  I think December 2025 ended up being the warmest December on record.

Earlier in the fall, I had build a tiny, tiny air prune box from some scrap 2"x4" lumber.  But because I sometimes do things without thinking them through, it wasn't long before I was second guessing the little box, and thinking that it wasn't going to be deep enough for the seeds I had planted.

So I decided to take advantage of the warm weather at the end of December to build a more proper air prune box.  This one still isn't very large compared to what real tree growers have, but I think it will be more than adequate for what I want to do.  It has a base and three risers, so it can be up to 14" deep.  It also has actual hardware cloth on the bottom (fastened to the bottom - it's not just sitting on chicken wire). 

Revised air prune box. The first version can be seen in the background by Zelda Scissorhands little house.

The bottom box is screwed to the 2"x4" legs which are tall enough that the three risers can just drop down inside the legs.  Hopefully the box won't be too hard to take apart!  

I filled it with hay/manure that I collected from the field earlier in the month, then topped it with compost.  In hindsight, I wish I had put more compost down inside the box.  I'm worried that the things planted in there are going to run out of nutrients before next fall.  I may end up having to water the box with some compost tea or liquid fertilizer or something.  

In the box are some white oak acorns that I collected from a tree at work; some pecans collected from the tree that blew over just a year or so ago; some Red Haven peach pits from peaches my dad gave us; some Mexican Plum pits I collected down by the creek; some Ozark Witchhazel seeds collected down by the creek; a single hazelnut from the shrub in the back yard; cuttings from the red seedless grape.  Toward the end of February, I may add the Ozark Chinquapin seeds I got in the mail this month.  I'm anxious to see what happens with this experiment.

And while the 28th of December was a nice day to build an air prune box, on the 29th a cold front dropped our temperatures down to more "winter-like" so it wasn't very pleasant to be working outside in the wind.  I decided to go ahead and plant some of my earliest cold-weather crops.  

In the past, I'd tried planting individual onion seeds, one or two into each cell of the CD-60 module trays.  That just never worked for me.  So the approach this year was to "winter sow" them in old creamer containers.  They'll grow on in those containers until I am ready to set them out in the garden - essentially, it will be like growing my own onion sets.  I hope that's how it works out anyway!

The more seasonal cold temperatures at the end of December only lasted a couple of days.  As the new year got under way, we were right back to crazy warm.  We reached 71° F on January 6th. 

I decided to go ahead and plant some more early garden crops on January 3. 

Just a few days after they were planted, the Early Texas Grano onions were already starting to come up.  Within a week, the two containers were filled with the little grass-like onions.  The germination was great!  The Utah Tall Celery germinated very well also.  

But the Red Burganday onions?  Zero.  Not a single seed came up.  Nor did any of the American Flag leek, the Nebuka Bunching Onions, the Lacinato Kale, the chives or the cilantro.  All of those seeds were several years old, and I am pretty sure storing them in a place where they got very hot during the summer was a bad, bad thing.  In other words, I ruined them.  Sigh.

But the Red Russian Kale seeds I had just bought from MIGardener germinated well so at least there's that. 

I waited until mid-January just in case the seeds were just slow coming up, but when there still wasn't any sign of a single seedling, I took the rest of the seeds in those packets an planted every last one of them.  If germination was even 5% the hope was I'd maybe get one or two plants!

Well, I guess it was just not meant to be.  The Lacinato Kale did finally sprout three or four tiny little plants, but nothing from any of the others (yet).

By the 17th of January, it had been so warm that I started to worry that I had missed the window for cold stratifying my seeds.  I did some more winter sowing.  Most of these plants are destined for The Meadow but a few of them will go in the "soft landings" bed I'm trying to add under the big oak tree in the front yard.

Winter sown seeds in yogurt cups.  Others were sown into creamer containers.

That afternoon when I walked to the mailbox, I was shocked to see a single daffodil bloom in The Flowerbed to Hide the Ugly Stump.  

I'm not going to count this as the "first daffodil" though, because while technically it is the first one, I think it is an outlier, tricked into blooming because it was on the south side of that log.  The others had just begun poking up through the ground so I don't think they'll bloom until February. 

But while January broke some record highs early on, it maybe hadn't been as warm overall as December was.  But I think it was determined to beat out December in the record books - just not for record warm temperatures....

The snow started on Saturday, January 24 and transitioned over to sleet/snow mix on Sunday night.  It was hard, if not impossible, to get an accurate measurement, but we might have ended up with 4" to 5" by the time all was said and done.

It was an ugly snow, not one of the pretty snows like one sees on a Christmas card.  It covered the ground and drifted up against things and just made everything miserable.

I don't think the National Weather Service gave this storm a name, but apparently The Weather Channel named it "Winter Storm Fern."  She happened because a large blast of arctic air (an offshoot from the polar vortex I guess?) surged way down into the southern United States at the same time a river of moisture was flowing in from the Gulf of Mexico and from the southern coast of California.  

We got very lucky here.  The storm started out with snow for us and transitioned over to sleet as the shallow layer of cold are shifted back to the north.  But that shallow layer stayed just far enough to the south that we didn't get any freezing rain (at least not that I know of).

While I say "we got lucky," that doesn't mean everyone in this area did.  There were people here in the county that had damage from the storm, including my dad.  His equipment barn collapsed on top of the tractor, the hay baler and some other machinery.  I think he said there were 28 chicken houses that collapsed in the county too. 

But areas to our south and east were hit particularly hard.  Up to an inch of ice was reported in Mississippi, with ice widespread across several other states.  Millions of people lost power during the frigid cold that came with the storm.

The snow and sleet that fell has been locked in place by the frigid cold temperatures.  It's still covering the ground even now, and it's slick and very treacherous to walk on.  The temperatures plummeted when the cold air surged south on January 24, and we didn't get above freezing again until January 27.  Our low that morning was 3.9° F.

It probably seems pretty foolish, but in the middle of all this cold weather, I thought, "Why not go ahead and plant the rest of the brassicas and the pepper seeds?"  So that's what I did.  

On January 26, I planted eight different types of peppers.

The Poblano pepper seeds were fresh, just purchased from MIGardener this fall.  If I held my mouth just right as I was planting them, they should come up.

The jalapenos were home-saved seeds from last year.  I sure hope if they germinate that they grow  true to type.

The rest of the pepper seeds were from the same packets I planted out of last year that gave me so much germination trouble I couldn't get to germinate.  Planting them from those packets again makes me wonder if I'm just stubborn, or stupid.  Maybe both.

I also planted more brassicas - a mix of old seeds, and some that I bought from Sow True Seed last year.  I planted very heavily in every little pot just in case the seeds had gone bad. 

The spinich was from a seed packet I bought a couple of years ago when the feed store put their expired seeds on clearance.  They were a year old when I bought them, and now they've been badly stored for two more years.  I have had them come up in the past, so I have my fingers crossed that they'll still do something.

I also planted garlic chives (seeds my older sister gave me) and some dill (home-saved seed from 2022).

(The random numbers on the list above correspond with a number written on the side of each little container.  I had cut some labels from milk jugs for the first seeds I planted, but had run out and didn't have an empty jug to make more at the time I planted these.)  

Because I never bought a heat mat, the yogurt cups I used as seed pots all came in the living room to sit on top of the dish receiver and the audio receiver.  Those two units give off quite a bit of heat and so long as I don't try to water anything that sitting up there and spill water into them, I think it's fine to use them to keep the seeds warm.  (Just DO NOT SPILL WATER INTO THEM I keep repeating over and over and over....)

Repurposing an ice cream container, a take-out container, and a cup cake carrier that someone had left at the recycling center to create mini "greenhouses" for my seed pots.

To my surpise, just three days later the first brassica seedling were already germinating: cauliflower, purple sprouting broccoli, green calabrese broccoli and some unidentified brassica in pot #11, which apparently I neglected to write down what it was in my book. 

On the 30th, some of the home-saved jalapeno seeds were germinating.

Anything that germinates gets moved into the bathroom under the grow light.  We've been able to keep the bathroom at a bearable temperature this year (not warm, by any stretch of the imagination, but at least bearable), and that's where the Meyer Lemon and Key Lime tree are spending the winter.  I put some hooks on the wall under the grow light and repurposed an old wire DVD rack to hang from the hooks to hold the small containers up close to the lights.  That has worked out pretty well so far.  

Celery, pricked out into individual modules; three or four tiny Lacinato Kale; Cauliflower (it looks like practially every seed germinated!) and one Liatris aspera (button blazing star) mixed with some Andropogon ternarius (splitbeard bluestem). 

Red Russian Kale (the three pots by the wall) and Savoy Cabbage.

Early Texas Grano onion.

Upright Prairie Coneflower, Ratibida columnifera, pricked out into toilet paper tubes.  These were winter sowed, and came up after just about a week, taking me totally by surprise.  They'll go out in The Meadow this spring.

Sprouts from the store-bought Sweet potato I half buried in some potting soil about a month or a month and a half ago.  I think I started these way, way too early but oh well....

Cilanto, pricked out and put four or five to a pot (another Red Russion Kale at the bottom left.)

One final frustration for the month:  I had ordered an Ayers pear tree from Stark Brothers back in August.  When I placed the order, the expected ship date was March, if I remember right.  Well, mid-January, I got an email from them that said it was supposed to ship the week of January 18.  I don't think they even looked at the weather forecast to see if that was a good time to ship.  It looks like it actually got moving with USPS on the 19th and then spent the next 11 days on a truck, arriving at my house on January 30.  Its roots didn't look very good.  And of course, I can't plant it because the ground is frozen solid, so it's just "heeled in" in a bucket for now. 

So as I sit her typing this post, my feet are so cold that they ache.  I can honestly say to January 2026, "Good riddance.  Your time came and now it's gone."  (Note to self..read this post in August when it's 110° F outside.) 

It's time for us to move on to The Waiting Month.