Photo: Great grandparents at their farm in Blandinsville, IL, with five of their six children .. my grandpa was yet a twinkle in grandma's eye. Stable boy and governess also pictured. Hodges farm, circa 1903-4

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

This week in the garden I'm adding a top layer of leaves to cover the bare soil. This will help prevent soil erosion and redeposit nutrients back into the soil as they decompose. It should also help cut down on the amount of weeds that might take over in early spring.

All of our foundations vents have been closed, protective covers have been placed over the outside hose bibs, and all of our sprinkler lines have been drained to prevent the pipes from freezing and bursting this winter. My geraniums have been trimmed, re-potted and stored away. We have decorated the yard and front entrance with groupings of corn stalks, mums, pumpkins and a few scary spiders. The front windows have construction paper cutouts of bats and pumpkins that were made years ago from the wee hands of my children.

My only chores left before winter: put up electric heating elements in the gutters to melt ice, do some more raking and burning of yard debris, and spray the fruit trees with a home made oil soap.

With all of the grandiose of spring and summer, autumn puts to rest the labor of my hands; in the coming months, there should be time to plan and map out the garden for next spring.

Happy autumn!

Photo art: Summer is but a faded memory ... by Mrs. Mac 6/08

1 comment:

Felisol said...

Mrs. Mac,
you are a queen among women. Doing all these right things in your garden.
I sure feel like a major underachiever! We bought 10 sacks of soil, each 50 liters. They are lying around in the storm waiting for me to get inspired. I then,- sometimes in the very near future, I hope, will spread the soil to protect my plants from freezing.There are still ten red begonias waiting to be saved from the horrors of November, and two nets of tulip bulbs to be set out.
Now, see what you have done, Mrs. Mac; given my dozing consiense a last warning. Sonn the bells of king winter are ringing.
From Felisol