Does anyone remember frost ferns—those delicate, frozen patterns etched onto windowpanes by the icy breath of January? I have not seen them since childhood when I awoke in a cold bedroom, pulling my blanket around me and running down the stairs for warmth and breakfast. Frost ferns “grow” on windows in unheated rooms, developing from thin layers of moisture on the surface of the glass. As I recall, the frost ferns were on the inside of the window, something you will not find in today’s well-insulated, well-heated homes.
With newer building techniques and a warming climate, we are losing the opportunity to see these tiny works of art, but you may still find them on car windows on a cold morning when there has been some humidity in the air. Watch, too for ice flowers on puddles, rime frost that coats the edges of leaves and flowers, and hoarfrost, the spiky thin needles of ice that rise from grass, leaves or twigs on bitter cold days.
"Under the microscope, I found that snowflakes were miracles of beauty; and it seemed a shame that this beauty should not be seen and appreciated by others. Every crystal was a masterpiece of design and no one design was ever repeated. When a snowflake melted, that design was forever lost. Just that much beauty was gone, without leaving any record behind."
Wilson "Snowflake" Bentley 1925
You can see more of the work of The Snowflake Man, Wilson A. Bentley (1865 – 1931), at www.snowflakebentley.com
Native Americans had names for each month, usually related to significant natural events that occur regularly. January was known as Cold Moon, Wolf Moon (because of the wailing of hungry wolves), Snow Moon, or Frost On Inside Of Lodge Moon. We have not had much in the way of frost yet this year, though the weather may soon turn a little colder. Already our days are beginning to lengthen, adding about a minute of daylight each twenty-four hours. There is still plenty of time to observe the natural world in its winter state
Our weather brings chipmunks, who spent most of the summer and fall storing nuts and acorns in their underground tunnels, out of their homes on warm days. Gray squirrels, who have none of the foresight of chipmunks, are winter tramps, picking up handouts wherever they might be found. I always thought squirrels stored food for the winter, but learned that they have adapted a practice called scatter hoarding. This way, some of their food is protected—if one location is found by a competitor, they have others stores. Unfortunately for those of us who have plants in containers, which are handy sites for burying food, squirrels seem to forget where they put their food, digging up one container after another in search of their stores. This also means that they are out all winter long searching for food.
Birds are around in abundance and should be rewarded for their summer’s work with a few handfuls of seed or grain. Gaylord Johnson, writing in 1926, tells of an experiment by a neighbor to make his orchard attractive to chickadees. His friend put out seeds and grains for the birds and found that chickadees ate heartily of the offered food, but still consumed enormous quantities of tent caterpillar and canker worms. The result of the little experiment was that the birds stayed near the orchard all winter and into spring. As the orchard trees bloomed and set fruit, they bore far more fruit than the orchards of those who did nothing to attract the birds—where worms flourished and consumed more than their share of the fruit.
Carolina chickadees will consume many foods including aphids, ants and beetles; spiders; and seeds of plants and trees, including redbud, pine and mulberry. For your entertainment and the health of your gardens, provide sunflower seeds or unsalted peanuts for your chickadees occasionally. You may be rewarded with fewer insect pests next summer.
“Nature—wild nature—dwells in gardens just as she dwells in the tangled woods, in the deeps of the sea, and on the heights of the mountains; and the wilder the garden, the more you will see of her there.” Herbert Ravenel Sass (1884-1958)
January is a time of quiet in a garden—a time for taking note of structural elements that need updating, plants in need of pruning or replacement, leaves to work into the soil in spring. It is also time to peruse the seed catalogs that still arrive in some of our mailboxes. Email delivery is the most environmentally friendly way to receive such catalogs, but with a bit of admittedly happy guilt, I confess that a seed catalog in the hands with a cup of coffee in front of a crackling fire is a lovely way to spend an afternoon.
Mr. Sass would be proud of my garden, for a more tangled, wild place you would be hard-pressed to find. My herb garden currently serves as a comfy home for rabbits, turtles, and assorted birds, all of whom find safety in the disarray of overgrown weeds and the tangle of blackberry bushes. Spring may find me in the garden again, salvaging treasured herbs, but for the rest of this winter, I will leave the garden to those looking for a home.
While observing all that is in my garden, I notice, too, the bulging buds on the dogwoods. Take a look for yourself, and you will see that the bottom of the buds are already a spring green—nature’s way of letting you know that the end of one year and the beginning of another are simply artificial time keeping devices. Nature is a cycle, and in spite of frost ferns and ice flowers around you now, the dogwoods are telling you that spring is already lining up to appear.
With newer building techniques and a warming climate, we are losing the opportunity to see these tiny works of art, but you may still find them on car windows on a cold morning when there has been some humidity in the air. Watch, too for ice flowers on puddles, rime frost that coats the edges of leaves and flowers, and hoarfrost, the spiky thin needles of ice that rise from grass, leaves or twigs on bitter cold days.
"Under the microscope, I found that snowflakes were miracles of beauty; and it seemed a shame that this beauty should not be seen and appreciated by others. Every crystal was a masterpiece of design and no one design was ever repeated. When a snowflake melted, that design was forever lost. Just that much beauty was gone, without leaving any record behind."
Wilson "Snowflake" Bentley 1925
You can see more of the work of The Snowflake Man, Wilson A. Bentley (1865 – 1931), at www.snowflakebentley.com
Native Americans had names for each month, usually related to significant natural events that occur regularly. January was known as Cold Moon, Wolf Moon (because of the wailing of hungry wolves), Snow Moon, or Frost On Inside Of Lodge Moon. We have not had much in the way of frost yet this year, though the weather may soon turn a little colder. Already our days are beginning to lengthen, adding about a minute of daylight each twenty-four hours. There is still plenty of time to observe the natural world in its winter state
Our weather brings chipmunks, who spent most of the summer and fall storing nuts and acorns in their underground tunnels, out of their homes on warm days. Gray squirrels, who have none of the foresight of chipmunks, are winter tramps, picking up handouts wherever they might be found. I always thought squirrels stored food for the winter, but learned that they have adapted a practice called scatter hoarding. This way, some of their food is protected—if one location is found by a competitor, they have others stores. Unfortunately for those of us who have plants in containers, which are handy sites for burying food, squirrels seem to forget where they put their food, digging up one container after another in search of their stores. This also means that they are out all winter long searching for food.
Birds are around in abundance and should be rewarded for their summer’s work with a few handfuls of seed or grain. Gaylord Johnson, writing in 1926, tells of an experiment by a neighbor to make his orchard attractive to chickadees. His friend put out seeds and grains for the birds and found that chickadees ate heartily of the offered food, but still consumed enormous quantities of tent caterpillar and canker worms. The result of the little experiment was that the birds stayed near the orchard all winter and into spring. As the orchard trees bloomed and set fruit, they bore far more fruit than the orchards of those who did nothing to attract the birds—where worms flourished and consumed more than their share of the fruit.
Carolina chickadees will consume many foods including aphids, ants and beetles; spiders; and seeds of plants and trees, including redbud, pine and mulberry. For your entertainment and the health of your gardens, provide sunflower seeds or unsalted peanuts for your chickadees occasionally. You may be rewarded with fewer insect pests next summer.
“Nature—wild nature—dwells in gardens just as she dwells in the tangled woods, in the deeps of the sea, and on the heights of the mountains; and the wilder the garden, the more you will see of her there.” Herbert Ravenel Sass (1884-1958)
January is a time of quiet in a garden—a time for taking note of structural elements that need updating, plants in need of pruning or replacement, leaves to work into the soil in spring. It is also time to peruse the seed catalogs that still arrive in some of our mailboxes. Email delivery is the most environmentally friendly way to receive such catalogs, but with a bit of admittedly happy guilt, I confess that a seed catalog in the hands with a cup of coffee in front of a crackling fire is a lovely way to spend an afternoon.
Mr. Sass would be proud of my garden, for a more tangled, wild place you would be hard-pressed to find. My herb garden currently serves as a comfy home for rabbits, turtles, and assorted birds, all of whom find safety in the disarray of overgrown weeds and the tangle of blackberry bushes. Spring may find me in the garden again, salvaging treasured herbs, but for the rest of this winter, I will leave the garden to those looking for a home.
While observing all that is in my garden, I notice, too, the bulging buds on the dogwoods. Take a look for yourself, and you will see that the bottom of the buds are already a spring green—nature’s way of letting you know that the end of one year and the beginning of another are simply artificial time keeping devices. Nature is a cycle, and in spite of frost ferns and ice flowers around you now, the dogwoods are telling you that spring is already lining up to appear.
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