Sense of Adventure

So today I decided, no more excuses, and went forth into the back yard to plant my honeysuckle.

It’s supposed to get really windy later. That struck me as not ideal for planting a tender transplant. Then again, it’s gonna have to get used to our wind soon or late. Also I’ve been putting it off already for, well, a year.

First I dug a hole by the wall to embed the fan-shaped wood trellis I bought from Mundo Wally for the purpose. There proved to be a sort of lip of foundation at the base of the cement-block north wall which served nicely to prop the base against. A small chunk of busted-up cement from something or other I’ve had to demolish since moving in helped wedge it in place from the other side.

At this point, as usual, Emma took my presence in the yard as meaning I wanted nothing more than to play with her. So nothing would answer but that I had to roam around the yard holding my arms out before me like Calvin playing Frankenstein’s Monster and making zombie noises. Which is how one plays the Puppy Monster. Emma happily raced around fleeing the Puppy Monster until she got tired and went to lie down in the shade. Fortunately it wasn’t too hot out there yet.

A few years ago I tried planting honeysuckle and it just flat died. This amazed all the people at local nurseries I asked about it, who unanimously said that honeysuckle’s so robust that if it didn’t have purty flowers it would be roundly hated as a weed. I did a little more research this time.

Hope it helps. Fingers crossed.

One key element is that the best books (primarily Judith Phillips’ excellent New Mexico Gardener’s Guide: Revised Edition) tell us that plants around here need loose soil to spread their roots, as well as a way to keep the soil cool and moist. The reason you see so many trees in public plantings around town that are sapling-sized after ten years or more in the ground (even when they’re green and show signs of being well-tended) is that they probably didn’t go in big enough holes to begin with; the soil around them was too compacted, largely by giant earth-moving machines; and that much of their rooting area is paved over, meaning it’s hot and impervious to water. The general advice Phillips gives for trees as well as shrubs and vines such as honeysuckle is to dig only to the depth of the root-ball, but to three or four times the width. So I took up my various tools (pick-axe, digging bar/tetsubo, shovel) and went to town.

To my surprise the soil proved none too hard to dig. I’m used, as I think I’ve mentioned, to it having the consistency of well-cured cement. Anyway, I dug so enthusiastically that in short order I’d produced a hole the requisite 32 inches in diameter or so, and over twice the necessary five inches deep. Whoops!

So I made a little platform of smallish dirt clods, reasoning that since root drainage is also an issue for honeysuckles in our heavy clay Valley soils it wouldn’t hurt to allow for a bit of that, as well as aeration. Anyway, as carefully as I could I transplanted my cherished honeysuckle sprout. I didn’t do as great a job as I might. One substantial shoot busted clean off. But I got the rest in place and wound the little shoots (or whatever the hell they’re called) tenderly in among the trellis to sort of get ‘em started.

Deciding it couldn’t actually hurt, I also stuck the base of the shoot that had broken off into the potting soil the rest was still in. That’s how I got the damned thing in the first place, although I actually kept the cutting in a glass of water until it rooted out (right after that I discovered you can get some kind of plant food to encourage cuttings to root: great.) Also Phillips recommends just “pinning slightly woody stems to moist soil in summer,” which seems, Jesus, pretty Draconian. In any event I’m not doing that to my baby, no sirree.

I filled the hole in again, being careful of course not to tamp the dirt down. I placed a double handful of the compost I made (yay!) directly around it for luck. Then I took the slightly pricey pecan hulls I bought at Osuna Nursery and mulched hell out of it.

At this point Emma came up to see what I was doing. Once she saw she couldn’t believe it. She looked up plaintively. “Dad, you’re introducing dried vegetable matter to our territory! For a plant. Hel-lo.”

And I said, “Yup. Guard it with your life.” Meaning primarily: if you dig or root or roll around with that thing, you’re a rug. Which of course is totally a lie. I’d never hurt her. Daddy’s special words might sure come out in force, though. I’d bet to that.

She went, “Whoa!” and went back to lie in the shade some more.

The transplant did not look too robust, I fear. Its tender little green leaves had wilted a bit, as if our awful soil had killed it on contact. I gave it a light misting and soaked the roots some, trying not to go overboard. Then I put the compost container next to it as a sort of windbreak (having second thoughts about the wind, there.) And thus ’twas done.

I certainly hope my little honeysuckle flourishes and grows. I’ve longed for honeysuckle of my own for years. And Gods know I nurtured this one long enough.

Even if it doesn’t, though, I’ve made a start. I dug a hole in the ground and put something in it. And whatever transpires with the honeysuckle, I will persevere. So there.

Update, 5:00 PM MDT - having occasion to venture into the backyard anyway (no, really) I yielded to temptation to go and check on my new planting, despite the fact it’s only been in the ground like 4-5 hours. To my pleased surprise both the transplant and the branch that broke off and I stuck in the ground anyway are both looking green and perky despite the wind.

Fingers double-crossed. No, wait; that didn’t come out right -

Tags: Emma!, Life, Me, tetsubo

This entry was posted on Monday, May 12th, 2008 at 2:04 pm and is filed under Landscaping. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.