In my first book, published 33 years ago, A Northeast Gardener’s Year, I described various goings-on in my garden through each month. What topics made it to each month’s pages was left to “the whims and vagaries of the weather and the weeds, the unfolding of blossoms and the ripening of fruits, perhaps the cry of a plant begging to be repotted as it pushed its roots through holes in the bottom of its container.”
With 20 years of gardening experience, graduate degrees and research in agriculture under my belt, I figured I had some idea of what was going on beyond the garden gate. Like the weather, for instance, as it related to when to sow seeds, set plants in the ground, and harvest. I even went so far, for instance, in the appendix of the book to list in granular detail what week in what month to sow tithonia, to keep an eye out for gooseberry mildew, or to take geranium cuttings.
I had the hubris to present such details as if set in stone.
In the late 19th century, Charles Dudley Warner, as quoted by and misattributed to Mark Twain, wrote, “Everybody complains about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.” How wrong he was. It wasn’t common knowledge then, but we humans had already started doing something about the weather. Global warming had begun its rise in earnest.
It was hard for me to imagine that a shift in climate would become obvious within the relatively short period of a lifetime. And I do mean “climate.” Weather refers to short-term changes in the atmosphere, the day-to-day ups and downs, while climate refers to atmospheric changes over longer periods of time. I could accept there being vagaries in the weather, but a shift in climate?!
Since penning my book, plants have told me what the weather and news reports might not have. Thirty-plus years ago, for instance, I had to coddle a warm season vegetable like okra, starting seeds indoors around the last frost date, transplanting them into the garden once the weather warmed, and finally hoping for a sufficiently warm summer for a decent harvest. These days I just drop the seed into waiting furrows out in the garden towards the end of May, then stand back. Plants sprout and grow quickly. The now-common warmer nights bring harvestable pods almost every day.
Bamboo is one of my bellwethers of our changing climate. I first planted Yellow Groove bamboo (Phyllostachys aureosulcata) almost 40 years ago. It’s among the most cold hardy of bamboos, both useful and beautiful, with canes that can grow one to two inches in diameter. The plant is evergreen as long as winter temperatures don’t plummet too low. If they do, canes die back and leaves turn brown and fall off even though the roots survive to fuel new canes in spring. That was business as usual for many years after I planted Yellow Groove bamboo.
Canes that remain alive and evergreen through winter thicken in the following season. That also makes for the roots sprouting more robust new canes than if old canes had winterkilled.
This season, and a few of the past seasons, promise to be evergreen bamboo years. The reason? Instead of winter lows down to minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit, winter low temperatures hover around zero degrees Fahrenheit.
For all its qualities, I don’t suggest planting Yellow Groove. It’s very invasive, rapidly spreading via thick underground runners, and is banned in New York State. More well-behaved choices would be Nude Sheath, P. nuda, and Bissett’s Bamboo, P. bissetii.
Spring warmth also has been making its appearance earlier in recent years than in the past, even a 90-degree day last year on April 13! The average last spring frost date for my garden is the third week in May.
Some recent years, that last frost bowed offstage in early April. That’s not always a good thing. A recent spring warmed early, with weeks of warm weather following the extended warmth, awakening flower buds on my apple and pear trees. But then frost made a late spring encore in spades. Poof. The life of embryonic fruits was snuffed out.
Weather and climate aren’t only about temperatures. They’re also about rainfall patterns, also with significant effect on our plants. Not only have temperatures been warmer, but rainfall has also been increased — especially last year, with over 17 inches more rain than the average. That’s one of the reasons many of us gardeners credit 2023 as being the worst gardening year ever, or, at least for me, in the past 40 years.
I prefer dry summers, but then my vegetables and blueberries are drip-irrigated. But what can a gardener do about a wet summer? Good soil drainage is important, with plenty of compost and, if needed, raised beds.
The general trend for snowfall has been less and less. I knew that from the amount of days I was able to slap on my skis and hit the nearby cross-country trails. But what about plants and snow?
Snow has been called “poor man’s manure” because, as it falls, it pulls down with it some nitrogen, a major plant nutrient, from the sky. This is nitrogen in the form that plants can use (nitrate and ammonium) which is up in the sky mostly from human activity, such as emissions from motor vehicles, electric power plants, industrial sources, and agriculture. Yes, it’s free fertilizer, but not much of it for growing plants, about five pounds per acre versus the needed 100 pounds per acre.
The bigger benefit of snow is as mulch. Plants and soil snuggled beneath the insulating white blanket don’t suffer from extremes in soil temperature, limiting both cold damage and heaving out of the soil by freeze-thaw cycles.
At least here in the Northeast, we’re generally spared the extreme droughts, extreme rainfalls, devastating thunderstorms, flooding, and wildfires experienced elsewhere around the globe.
Last year’s 17 inches above average is quite a lot, but it pales before the two feet of rain Fort Lauderdale received last April in just 24 hours. Sure, our summers are getting warmer, but nothing near temperatures in the Southwest that soar to well over 100 degrees Fahrenheit for extended periods.
Ah, for the good ol’ days back in 1991 when the weather and climate were predictable (but not really) and I and my readers could refer to my book for when to do what, and why, in the garden.
Is it time for me to burn the book? No! Many topics, such as edible flowers, birdhouse gourds, digging (or not digging) the soil, fencing, and planting by the phase of the moon, are climate-independent. And, as for those granular dates for sowing, transplanting, and other weather-dependent activities, I just move spring dates back a week or so and fall dates forward a week or so, and I’m back in business with A Northeast Gardener’s Year.
As for climate change, let’s each of us put some brakes on our energy consumption and back politicos who can see into the future the obvious.
New Paltz writer Lee Reich, author of
A Northeast Gardener’s Year, The Pruning Book, Growing Figs in Cold Climates, and other books, is also a garden consultant specializing in growing fruits, vegetables, and nuts. He hosts workshops at his New Paltz farmden. For more information, go to www.leereich.com.
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