I keep a garden journal, which includes observations, musings, insights and just about whatever seeps out of my brain when I’m propagating, as well as planting in my yard and garden. I scrounged some small sturdy boxes to store stuff in as well.
I often reseed my natives by stripping some of the ripe seed heads in the fall. Some I spread on soil in the yard, and some I save in old medicine pill bottles for future use. I also start some collected seeds in starter pots for transplanting into the garden after they sprout.
I do plan to take my own advice (if I have the stamina, patience and intestinal fortitude) and wait until early spring to prune everything. But when I look at my once-beautiful plants, I feel like Dr. Strangelove, my hand uncontrollably drawn to my left-handed pruners instead of the “button.”
A tiny seed I planted and in days or weeks, has germinated, sprouted and is on its way to becoming an entity that has a vascular system, creates its own food and, will one day bloom, grow its own fruit and seeds, and perhaps provide food for myself, my family, birds and other wildlife, enrich the soil and, eventually be turned into compost, making the nutrients in its leaves, stems and flowers available for the next generation of plants.
(Photo: Black-bellied whistling duck. Photo courtesy of Cornell Ornithology Lab.) It’s literally freezing outside, but I took some moments to do a little bird watching.
Black-bellied whistling ducks are native to the valley and to Mexico, but they do like to overwinter here.