Yeah I guess it is time to pack it in. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I LOVE snow; I simply don’t like it in October. Or November, March, April or May.
Tom and I accomplished a divorce-inducing task this morning: we moved the figs indoors for the winter. This is on par with moving the air conditioners twice a year. (The only time Tom and I become short-tempered with each other is when we are lifting heavy things together, which is why I usually try to do things myself. But that downstairs air conditioner weighs 95 lbs, and, burly as I think I am, it’s not something I can swing solo.)
My grand experiment this year, plant-wise, was a ton of different fruit trees/bushes. The farm already had some gnarly apple trees and a magnificent Canadian plum, as well as one lone highbush blueberry and a ton of wild blackberry, sour cherry, and autumn olive berries. And the farm’s name is Old Vines, for its 80-year-old grape vines. But I of course wanted “more,” and I wanted “weird.” Here’s the tally:
2 Chicago fig
4 Arctic kiwi
3 red currants
3 green gooseberry
8 assorted blueberry, mostly high bush
Only the figs are mobile. They are frost-hardy, though they don’t particularly appreciate it. They are in the basement stairway now covered with burlap.
And we’re not getting divorced.