I decided that the alien marshmallow was a lot of effort for iffy results. Theoretically I could bury the fig, but there are probably roots from the smoke bushes—so, no room. So I wrap it; on January 2, 2021, I bundled that little tree up like a kindergartener walking to school on an arctic day, as I had done the previous winter. It was a winter of temperature swings, but it seemed OK until late March 2021, about when you would expect temperatures to moderate somewhat. They did not; they oscillated from the low teens some nights to 71°F highs three times in 13 days.
Last year, I waited too long to unwrap my fig tree, and there was a fair amount of mold on many of the branches. This is not a mistake I would care to repeat, so this year I decided to unwrap it earlier. I went through my photographs and discovered that I had unwrapped it April 6, 2019.
My final decision was driven by the weather report. The weather people predicted rain for this last weekend in March, so I decided it was time. I don’t want it sitting in wet wrappers when the temperatures are going to be reasonable. That sounds like a recipe for mold.
I had a lot of work done on the exterior of the house this spring and summer by some very tidy people—one of my rather ratty tomato cages got tossed with some other debris. I had been daisy-chaining tomato cages together to contain the fig over the winter.
A cold snap was predicted, so I had to do something. Burlap and bamboo stakes seem affordable.
This fig pen was able to absorb all the leaves that had fallen in the yard that were not already destined to cover a perennial bed. Continue reading “The Fig Is Put to Bed”
I was wandering around this morning with my coffee, and I noticed just how fresh the fig was looking.
I left it wrapped too long, however. The branches on the windward side are not as far along as the ones on this side—the southeast side.
We are on that autumnal roller coaster, but despite the relatively balmy temperatures—it reached at least 49°F today and will be in the mid 40s all week, except Tuesday, when it will reach into the upper 50s—I have to put the garden to bed for the winter.
Enough leaves have fallen to finish wrapping up the fig tree, for example. This tree is still shrub sized, so I am still wrapping it the same way: one bunny-chewed acrylic blanket, three tomato cages, four yards of floating row cover, and some big piles of leaves. Continue reading “The Marshmallow Has Landed”
I wandered by my little fig tree yesterday when I was photographing fall color—I even gently tweaked a couple of the remaining figs to see if there was a chance of them ripening. I thought not, but today the answer is definitely no.
We have had a couple of nights in the last few with frost enough to do in the hostas’ leaves, but the fig was fine as of yesterday afternoon. Today one leaf remains attached, as are five frozen figs. I ate the last ripe one that the chipmunks missed on Wednesday.
…Not just the drop season, but riots.
If you have ever raised apples or pears you are well aware of the June drop, when fruit whose seeds were not fertilized drop all over the ground.
If you raise pawpaws, you learn about riots. It seems to be an annual event that occurs about when you start to wonder just when it is going to rain. Some four-legged characters got into the tops of my two pawpaws a couple of days ago and tore off a lot of fruit, taking a bite (or more) out of dozens of pawpaws before tossing them overboard. The ground was littered. What type of characters? I did not see—I only found the wreckage on the ground in the morning. I suspect raccoons—I have caught them red-pawed in the past—but I could be wrong. Do possums eat pawpaws?