During last week's warm spell, it was time to get our little dormant trees from the Arbor Foundation planted into our Arkansas soil. They had arrived at our home in December (a bit late, I thought, but the Arbor Foundation is supposed to be attuned to when they should be sent to donors and when they should be planted in one's area of the nation) so, due to the busyness of the December season and the (b-r-r-r) cold weather, I had simply laid them aside on our unheated garage's work bench until the time seemed better for planting.
So now the holidays were behind us and the weather was turning warmer, at least temporarily (who knows for sure?) so it seemed the right time to get them into the ground.
The packets of little trees came with a leaflet of instructions. I always need this aid to help as I proceed with any project. I began by tardily following the instructions, such as: Unwrap the trees, inspect for damage, untangle the roots, soak in water. Do not allow the roots to dry out. Oh dear, my first fear was: Have I waited too long to start this procedure? Well, let's give it a try.
First thing was to get out of my robe and into my sweats for the days' work. Then, locate the spade and shovel. Think, ponder and wonder about where to locate the little trees when we got to it that afternoon. When lunch was over, "Matlock" had been joyfully watched, and the temperature was checked (at 57 degrees), we were ready to get to work with ears covered (me) and gloves on (both).
I sorted the little "treelings" (my word) into color groups according to the color-coded paints on the "trunks" of the baby trees so we could decide what spring's-bloomers we had. We -- I use the term loosely because my husband did all the physical work while I simply did the planning as to where the little guys/girls should stand, in relation to the spring and summer sun and in relation to the existing trees, sidewalks, house, playhouse, horseshoe court, deck, etc. -- continued to work, so that when all was finished and everything blooms in the spring, everything is pleasing and satisfactory.
When our first session was finished, we had planted crabapples, redbuds, dogwoods, and Washington hawthorns. I can only smile and highly anticipate the beautiful, blooming yard, front and back, when they are growing mightily. And the sun and air are warm.
My husband then went to buy some mulch to place around the lower trunks and then to water the little things so they will take off in a major way. We planned to plant the remainder of the little trees on the following day while the warm weather hung around. I again sorted what we had left to do and found that we had some Japanese dogwoods, a couple of crape myrtles, and a couple of other ones ready to go. I put them back into water.
When the weather remained warm on the following day, we found our way to our front yard and back yard and proceeded to do pretty much the same things as we had done before -- dig, plant, mulch, admire, and plan to wait.
We also decided to transplant a lilac bush I had planted in the backyard some eight or so years ago, just after I retired from full-time employment at the Herald-Leader. I was so elated to have time on my hands that April, and a bit of money in my pocket, that I had a great time planting some things that I loved. I have always loved lilacs so, when I planted one, I had great hopes for it. But I didn't choose the perfect spot, I think, and it never received enough sunlight. Lilacs had always grown and bloomed prolifically in Iowa where I grew up, but I perceive they don't do as well here in the mid-South as in the north. But now, with the transplantation done, I have great hopes of my lilac doing much better. We placed it in full sunlight and will wait to see -- which is the story of gardening: wait to see.
Now, the watering season is on. Husband continues to water our little trees to keep them happy and ready to sprout leaves. Hopefully, their little blossoms will be also forming inside the little branches, so that when the time is appropriate, the pinks, whites, purples, light greens and reds will burst forth and our wait will be over.
Isaiah 35 tells of the blossoming in the desert. I liken my barren winter yard to the "desert," in a way, where nothing much is seen to be growing. But when the "blossoms" on my little trees, now planted in the "desert" begin to bloom, I will say, as in Isaiah 35:2 "It shall bloom abundantly, and rejoice, even with joy and singing ..." So when the little blooms begin to pop out, abundantly, I hope, I will rejoice and announce it to you in a future column. And you can drive by our yard on Jones Street in Siloam Springs to enjoy the park-like appearance of the blooming trees. Together, we might even sing a song about blooms and spring!
-- Jan Mullikin is a Siloam Springs resident and former employee of the Herald-Leader. She can be reached at [email protected]. The opinions expressed are those of the author.
Community on 01/28/2015