Make the most of your garden in the off-season

December may not seem like a great time to be working on garden projects, but it's actually an excellent time to get things accomplished without eating into precious planting and cultivating time. This month, my husband made me an early Christmas present: an arbor over our garage doors.

For the past few years I've pictured it, pretty and practical, overflowing with wisteria vines that practically beg visitors to come in for a closer inspection. Early on, we encountered a problem: we don't get nearly enough sun in this corner of the property to coax those big beautiful wisteria buds to bloom. The northern exposure ensures only morning rays, and the other portion of the house blocks out a lot of those.

Not to be deterred from my "vision," I've decided hummingbird vine will have to grace the new arbor. It's a bit more tolerant of low-light conditions, and I'm convinced I can still get a few orangey-red buds to make an appearance--as well as some hummingbirds!

The best thing about the arbor is the structure itself. It breaks up all the white space above the doors and really does offer a welcoming entryway along the front of the house. The bonus comes during this time of year, when we layer it with greenery, add a wreath and top it all with a red bow. Merry Christmas!

Why I love the clove

When I think of Christmas, I think of cloves, the rock-hard reddish buds which spice up mulled wine and add zest to all manner of holiday recipes. Ironically, the clove tree Syzygium aromaticum is a tropical plant. Yes, it's evergreen. Yes, its bright red and white flower buds look properly festive, but the clove tree isn't something you'd place beside your other houseplants. It grows up to thirty feet high and twenty-five feet wide! Still, I like to include it in a December posting because I often think of cloves this time of year.

The clove scent--combined with a hint of cinnamon--always makes me think of warm winter evenings by the fire, holiday decorating and singing Christmas carols. Other cultures have different traditions, but the spicy nuggets are just as vital to them. Cloves have been used in the Middle East, China and Mediterranean areas since classical times. They became the rage in Europe back in the eighth century.

Native to the "Spice Islands" of the East Indies, cloves are actually the expanded flowers buds of the plant, dried and commercially available to us all. The pungent culinary additive not only spices up everything from ham to hot cider, its oil, which contains the natural antiseptic eugenol, relieves toothache pain when dropped onto a cavity. Traditionally, it was used to curb vomiting and relieve nausea via clove tea. Herbalists even combined it with olive oil to relieve earaches, but be warned: placing pure clove oil in the ear canal can cause permanent damage to delicate structures within the ear. Best to consult a doctor about your aches and pains and enjoy the tasty attributes of cloves in your favorite dishes and drinks.

Be a lazy gardener and bring balance to your yard

Maybe it's because I've had a few upheavals in my life lately, or perhaps it's because I'm a Libra--the astrological sign of the well-balanced scales--but I am acutely feeling a lack of balance in my life. This, of course, I notice in the world around me.

This past summer the Northeast was cold and rainy. Local weather forecasters explained we'd wiped out our water deficit by July, and drought conditions were a mere memory. On the up side, I didn't have to water my yard even once--until September hit. Late summer to mid-autumn brought us sultry temperatures and virtually no rain. Until recently, we were right back to conserving water.

When nature is out of whack, I'm deeply disappointed. The warm fall evenings and even warmer days never allowed trees to turn off chlorophyll production until well into October, so we didn't get much brilliant fall color before the leaves dropped. My late-blooming perennials were puny, or didn't even bother blooming at all. How I miss the Japanese anemone which once flourished along my back fence, lighting up fall evenings in sparkling white blooms with cheerful yellow centers. The photo, above, is an annual plant in full bloom along my back arbor--in November!

Okay, so if nature isn't going to be predictable, I should be. I need to give the butterflies and frogs--and even beneficial bugs--a fighting chance to procreate and burrow safely in the ground. Just like I did last autumn, this fall I am limiting the amount of leaves I blow into piles and bag up in favor of gently raking them to the perimeter of my yard. This not only protects the flowerbeds in a layer of mulch, but also ensures delicate habitats remain intact, offering wildlife plenty of organic refuge.

Try it yourself! For once in your life be lazy. Clear leaves off grass but keep them covering perennials until spring arrives. You'll save yourself a lot of work as well as provide a home for nature's necessary creatures.

Baking soda isn't just for baking

I think baking soda should be renamed All-purpose Gardening Powder, or even magic fairy dust. The horticultural applications are nearly endless! Take, for example, my five favorite uses around the yard:

1. Killing slugs the all-natural way: After all the rain we had this past summer, slugs were proliferating among my plant life. Sprinkling baking soda on them shriveled the slugs and solved the problem.

2. Testing soil pH: Are your flowerbeds and lawn too acidic? Have you got a lot of weeds, which tend to thrive in more acidic soil? In a small dish, mix garden soil with a little water, until it becomes muddy. Dust the dish with baking soda. If the mixture bubbles, your soil is acidic.

3. Correct acidic soil: If the test, listed above, proves positive, you can amend highly acidic soil by mixing baking soda and water into the area. The result: more flowering, fewer weeds. But be careful about how much you apply. Start with just a pinch or two of baking soda. Too much will burn plant leaves and roots.

4. Keep fungus at bay: Applying a spritz of baking soda to leaves infected with mildew or fungal diseases not only cleans them, but neutralizes surface areas. More alkaline areas limit the ability of fungal spores to grow. Mix 1 tsp of baking soda with a few drops of dish detergent and a liter of water for a solution which will clear up infected areas.

5. Keeping cut flowers looking good longer: Dissolve a teaspoon of baking soda in a vase of cut flowers for longer-lasting freshness and blooming.

Summer's second act

Now that autumn is officially here, it seems more like summer. Temperatures have soared into the 80's nearly every day this month--something we northeasterners didn't see in July.

I, for one, am making the most of the Indian summer--spending time in my garden and admiring plants, like the morning glory, above, which would normally be on the decline during this time of year. Everywhere I turn, I see the effects of a very rainy summer followed by warm fall days. Plants are huge and healthy, and longer lasting.

Tree leaves are not as brilliant as normal, since it's the cooler temperatures that broadcast the signal to stop producing chlorophyll. That will happen soon--sooner than I wish. In fact, with the promise of brilliant color right around the corner, I'm enjoying summer's second act. You should too. Get outside and tour a winery, pick some apples or just stroll through your neighborhood. It's also a great time to plant spring bulbs.

Autumn-themed window boxes

The summer's nearly over, but that doesn't mean planting season is kaput! Hardy plants and dried flowers will carry window boxes and planters through autumn--and, in some cases, even into winter.

The key is to choose plants that won't wilt and die until temperatures dip below freezing. Hearty red geranium and petunia (pictured above) tend to stay in shape even when the mercury slides into the forties, and upper thirties. Of course chrysanthemums last a good long while, and provide plenty of spectacular color, but consider filling in sparse areas with unlikely species--dwarf boxwood and cyprus, winter cabbage, the dried mop heads of hydrangea, and even the "cinnamon sticks" from the fern of the same name. They all look fantastic in fall (as you can clearly see in the photo).

Go a step further--as seen in the picture--and paint window boxes a cheery hue the color of sugar maple leaves, and accent windows in strips of rich green wood for a look that's both rustic and elegant.

If time and/or money is an issue, gather a bunch of fallen leaves in three or four different shades and exercise your creativity: arrange them in a soil-filled window box or planter around existing plants, or even by themselves. You can even add small logs (1"-2" wide) into the mix. Slender white birch logs look amazing in these types of designs, especially when combined with Christmas ferns, which stay green all year long, and the explosive red seed heads of switch grass. Festive!

After the storm

Just as Texans were packing up and heading out of many coastal towns, I was driving into Hurricane Harvey territory. Driving the 25-plus hours toward Austin, I had no idea what I was in for. I had no choice. My daughter and her dogs were visiting with us in New York, but she has a job that started this past week in Austin.

I'm not going to say it was the best cross-country trip I've ever made. Tedious hours behind the wheel, trying to rip through counties and towns as fast as I could while my muscles protested, locked into the "driving position" for 14 hours a day. Almost unbearable. Yet it was the unknown that made the trip most difficult. What would we encounter when we met up with the storm? Downpours so powerful that I'd have to pull off the highway? Flash floods that could swiftly carry our car away? Weather reporters were unsure; the hurricane appeared to be unpredictable.

As luck would have it, we appeared on the scene just after the deluge. Aside from downed trees and littered pathways (see a photo I took from Common's Ford in Austin, above), Travis County was pretty much spared. The poor people of Houston were not so lucky. All the horrible emergencies I'd conjured in my head have become reality for so many of them. The photos coming out of that region are harsh and heartbreaking.

Let's help the folks in the ravaged areas along the Texas coast. Go on redcross.org or call 1-800-HELP NOW. If it's easier to text a $10 donation, send a message to 90999 with a message saying "REDCROSS" and it will arrive to the charity via your phone company, but be aware: it takes longer to get the money to victims since it has to go through a third party.

However you choose to help, it will aid in getting fellow Americans back to safety, and normal lives.

Light up the night

Many flowers call it a day as soon as the sun sets, but evening is often the time we want to spend in our outdoor spaces. Cocktail parties, cookouts--or just cooling down after steamy summer temps--are enhanced by a bevy of beautiful blossoms. This is the time plants like the evening primrose (Oenothera biennis) like to shine.

This annual (or biennial, depending on local climate) boasts yellow flowers more than two inches wide that open at dusk. It flourishes from June through October in the Northeast, so it's a handy plant to have around this time of year, as many other flowers die down.

Evening primrose doesn't need much nurturing. It's been known to thrive in dry meadows, waste places and along roadsides, but don't let its humble abodes deter you. It looks magnificent when paired with purple petunias or red roses. Its sunny demeanor holds its own among the more noble blooms.

What's more, the entire plant is edible. Principally cultivated for its root, it can also be prepared as a tea or tincture to treat coughs related to colds. A salve made from the plant treats skin irritations, and traditionally, it was used as medicine for the urinary system, relieving bladder and urethra pain (though I don't recommend applying it in this fashion without checking with your doctor first).

Because the hardworking evening primrose produces brilliant yellow buds and lush foliage around the clock for a solid four months with little or no supervision, it deserves a spot in your flowerbeds.

Extend your blooming season

I find myself feeling wistful this time of year. It's something about seeing that last day lily bloom (above) that stirs up emotions of love and loss. As the garden settles down and the riot of blooms subsides, the idea of beauty and life as precious, fleeting entities covers me like a heavy mantle. I carry this weight as I wander the pathways of my gardens, trying not to sigh.

Fortunately, knowing this malaise will descend upon me this time of year, I've learned to prepare, and even divert my melancholy. Yes, it's important to acknowledge the facts: my day lilies are pretty much done for the season. They've gone the way of some of my favorites: the columbine, climbing rose, lupine and peony. But the growing season is far from over!

The Liatris, Rudbeckia and Echinacea have just started to shine. The hydrangeas are hanging in there, and I'm still getting a smattering of Shasta daisies. Soon my Montauk daisies and Anemone will emerge. Other fall must-haves are: Sedum (all varieties), the pretty panicles of Northern Sea Oats (Chasmanthium), Rose of Sharon (Hibiscus syriacus), bluebeard bush (Caryopteris clandonensis) and the magnificent Rose Mallow (AKA Hibiscus moscheutos). The one I planted last year has dozens of buds on it and each gorgeous crimson flower--the size of a dinner plate--is a work of art (below).

Another way to extend the flowering in outdoor spaces is to plant re-bloomers. Experts have been working hard at hybridizing for years, and over the past decade or so, many of our all-time favorites push forth blossoms from spring to the first frost. Among them: lilacs, azaleas and roses (I have them in white--seen in the background of the Rose Mallow photo--and hot pink, seen entwined with Rudbeckia, below).

With all the horticultural innovations available, there's no reason your garden (and mine!) can't look abundant right up through October!

Layering color in your flower garden

The easiest way to add texture and personality to your garden is by choosing plants with varied foliage and bloom color. Don't be afraid to go at the garden full-force, planting an array of colors close together. If you hate the effect, simply dig up the plants that don't conform with your vision and move them to another spot.

In this way, garden design is a lot like testing different paint colors on the walls of your house. Sometimes you have to sample quite a few before hitting on the exact shade you like. For every 10 plants I painstakingly get into the ground, about three will get unceremoniously (but carefully) pulled up and placed elsewhere.

It's not always the plant's fault. Sometimes my vision for a certain flowerbed will change. Of course there are times when the plant really IS to blame. If you purchased a Eupatorium (Joe Pye weed) that was supposed to get four feet tall but actually grows to a gigantic 8 in a sun-loving bed (as mine did), you have every right to relocate it (I loved it so much I simply added an arbor to keep the mop-head flowers from bending forward).

When choosing colors and shapes, go with your gut. Want an all-out color assault on your senses? Layer as many colors as you can in one small area as I have done (above). I chose neutrals and brights in pots (foreground), enhanced by the lavendar blooms of white-edged hostas, deep purple Monarda (bee balm) blossoms, orange day lilies, yellow lanceleaf coreopsis and deep blue Hydrangea macrophylla (far background).

Feeling playful? The polka dot leaves of Pulmonaria (AKA lungwort) will brighten up shady spots, and even fare well in partial sun. I paired mine with the stripy Carex (AKA sedge, pictured below) because I wanted a "circles and stripes" theme by my side door.

Is minimalism your thing? Plant a flower garden with just one blossom shade. A great example of this is the White Garden at Sissinghurst in England. Because the foliage hues differ greatly in this grand design, the effect is still one of great variety.

This is the time of year perennials go on deep discount. Purchase a plethora of plants you may never otherwise have considered--and have a field day in your outdoor spaces!

Take your garden to new heights

For all of you gardeners who, like me, are running out of space in your yards, look up! If you want to continue expressing yourself through your gardening, the sky is--quite literally--the limit. Plants may be anchored to the ground, but they don't have to hug the horizon. Let leafy tendrils reach for the heavens!

There are certain species that prefer to go vertical--with a friendly lift. Among them are: hollyhocks, roses, wisteria, trumpet vine, honeysuckle, clematis, moonflower and morning glory (to name just a few). Stylish garden implements--from towering trellises and traditional tuteurs to stacked-plant screens and freestanding frames--offer maximum lift with minimal effort.

If you're a newcomer to the high-rise plant concept, the easiest vines to grow in the Northeast are plants that are native to our area. My favorite is the humble trumpet vine (Campis radicans). I love it for a number of reasons--it's easy to grow, has lush, gorgeous flowers and attracts hummingbirds (hence it's other common name of Hummingbird Vine).  When allowed to spread out, the dense foliage provides a safe place for nesting birds.

Buyer beware. Plant trumpet vine in a spot you need coverage (I have it on arbors and trellises, as pictured, above). If you place it in a competitive spot--say, with roses--the trumpet vine will win out. It's tough and tenacious. Clip it back ruthlessly to keep it in check.

More earth-bound plants still love to spread upward and outward, as is the case with hollyhocks (alcea). This giant of the gardening world is a member of the mallow family. It produces beautiful blooms in a wide range of colors and regenerates itself with an abundance of seeds. After it's established, it pretty much tends to it's own needs--except for relying on helpful stakes to keep it standing tall. In fact, it leans so heavily on those stakes, you often have to tie stems to them with twine. Tie loosely to allow plenty of air circulation.

The best way to show off plants without taking away from your garden's style, is to choose implements that enhance not only the flowers and foliage you are highlighting, but the overall feel of your outdoor spaces. Try an expanding bamboo trellis (jamaligarden.com makes a nice one) for a clean modern look, or an aged cedar tuteur (available at whiteflowerfarm.com) for timeless appeal. If low-care is your thing, the attractive white Dura-Trel PVC trellis is maintenance-free and has a 20-year warranty (sold on Amazon.com).

Garden helpers like these are nearly as abundant at the plants they aid. The key is to find the ones which best suit your style and budget. Happy planting!

Waterworks

If it's true what the late English garden designer Russell Page once famously said, that "gardens are an expression of faith and the embodiment of hope," I wholeheartedly agree. Such sentiments are particularly important to me this season--one of the rainiest summers I've experienced in many years.

As dreary days and deluges fill up the month, I find myself ready for a garden stroll, camera in hand, as soon as the sun peeks through the clouds. Although my out-of-doors activities seem to be centered around weeding and grass-mowing, I do try to find the time to revel in nature's wonders. Some of my delightful discoveries include the pure white Asian lilies that popped up seemingly overnight near my pond (pictured, above, left), and a plethora of pinkish-purple bee balm I don't recall  planting (above, right).

In my front yard, the finicky hydrangeas have decided to put on a rare performance. The combination of mild winter temps, moderate sun and plenty of rain has coaxed them into blooming better than they have in years. While the more reliable arborescens ('Annabelle') banked along the brick driveway (pictured below, center) can hardly contain themselves, the shy macrophylla peek their blue mop heads around the base of my rhododendrons (bottom, left), and the 'Blushing Bride' (bottom, right) are profuse, even though my acidic soil has turned their pinkish blush into a soft bluish hue.

I've learned to take the good with the bad, turn lemons into lemonade, so to speak. Though there's not nearly enough sunshine around here to grow a lemon! I've heard the upcoming weekend may be clear....

What inspires you?

What do you consider beautiful? What elements are must-haves in your landscape? Rocks? Water? Architectural foliage? Color? Pristine, perfectly symmetrical spaces or plants that bloom with abandon in every corner of the yard? An abundance of one type of flower or maybe no flowers at all? 

Whatever you favor, NOW is the time to turn your intentions into reality. This is the height of the blooming season, and the best shot you'll have at plotting out what's going to look fantastic in your garden spaces.

It all starts with an idea. That idea should center around what FEEL you want your yard to have, and how you plan to utilize the space. Many of my friends have lovely built-in swimming pools. They like to have summer gatherings around them, so they go for the "resort" look. Perennial beds line the fence surrounding the pool and oversized planters are strategically scattered around patio furniture and built-in bars. The planters are chock-full of annuals, since they give the most colorful blooms all season long.

I opt for a different atmosphere (above), since I tend to use my yard differently. My style is more of a "retreat", with a pond and lots of greenery. The screened-in porch off to the side is the optimum place to start my day, with my cup of morning coffee. I spend many a summer afternoon writing alongside the pond, watching the frogs dive and swim and catch flies. The only people who ever enter this water feature are my kids' friends, on a dare.

Perhaps you like a rustic, woodsy style, which calls for ferns and shade plants. Maybe a beachy look appeals--with wide-open spaces and 10 different types of perennial grasses. Does a fenced garden with old-fashioned flowers make you swoon? Consider roses, hydrangeas and hollyhocks. Whatever your style, head to your nearest nursery and ask the experts exactly what you need to achieve the look you desire. Before you plant your new garden gems, move them around the yard, letting them reside in different areas until you come up with the exact spot that speaks to you. It should tell you "plant me here!"

But don't wait too long. It's best to get your selections in the ground before the hottest days of summer hit us, just a few weeks from now. You want to give plants the best possible chance of success.

911

I'm going to admit something I'm not at all proud of: I live an hour north of New York City and I have been to the World Trade Center area only three times since the 911 catastrophe. I first dragged myself to the site a few years after the unimaginable tragedy, when the area was known simply as Ground Zero. It was exactly what we all imagine when the word "zero" comes to mind: Nothingness. A void. A big empty hole in the ground. Yet knowing that so very, very  much actually resided in that seemingly empty space was overwhelming. I left the place at a near run, horrified, distraught, and feeling more empathetic for those who lost their loved ones than at any other time in my life.

I didn't go back there until late November of 2015, escorting out-of-towners around the beautiful infinity pool waterfalls placed on the footprints of the original towers. I read every single name carved on the surrounding plaques that cold, sunny day, running through a pocket pack of tissues as I did so. I felt it only fitting to give each person who perished the attention he or she deserved-- a little, insignificant gesture but, like everyone around me, I attempted to somehow make sense of the senseless and stamp my own little version of meaning on the utterly meaningless. How, after all, can we find meaning in those who would murder more than 3,000 people for a twisted, detestable ideology?

My third trip to the area was yesterday. Once again, I ushered someone from far away to our devastating part of the world. As I walked through the area, I thought about how eager my countrymen from other parts of our great nation are to get to lower Manhattan to pay tribute to our fallen heroes, and how they may be a bit puzzled by my reluctance to go there. It's not that I lost family members or close friends at that site on that horrifying day. Like every other citizen in the great United States of America, I grieve for our national losses: the lives, and the crushed potential of more than 3,000 hopes and dreams. I can't ever seem to fully understand the depth of our immense collective loss. But for New Yorkers, the feeling goes somehow deeper.

I'm not suggesting I feel the pain of 911 more significantly than someone living in Kansas, and I certainly wouldn't begin to compare it with those who actually lost those they loved. The fact is, I can't even explain the feeling I share with other New Yorkers. None of us can. It's something we feel, but there are no words to explain that feeling. It's a tangible intangible. An oxymoron to describe our innermost feelings on the subject. Only my friends in and around the New York City area understand it. Maybe it's the proximity. We've lost the innocence and gentle trust of wandering the streets of New York City without jumping at every loud noise and scanning sidewalks for unattended bags. I've wondered if maybe those around Pearl Harbor in the 1940's or near the book repository in Dallas after November of 1963 may have felt the same way.

Yesterday, the 911 Memorial site was indescribable in its beauty. There was something about the area that gave me a sense of peace I'd never experienced during previous visits. Gazing around, I suddenly realized what it was: nature.  The swamp white oaks, which hadn't been there the first time I was, and had shed their leaves on my second visit were now full of the rich green foliage that calms the senses and imbeds in the brain the vital message of rebirth. I sat on a granite bench and listened to the leaves stirring in the gentle breeze. After a while I walked the footprints, once more taking note of the seemingly endless stream of names. This time I noticed something else: simple white roses marking those who would have celebrated birthdays. Of course the notion made my heart plunge to my stomach and my eyes well with tears, but after a while another feeling accompanied them: gratitude. How thoughtful to commemorate individual birthdays. And in the language everyone speaks...the language of flowers.

Before I left the site, I stood before the memorial's most inspiring living symbol: The Survivor Tree (photo below). A callery pear ornamental, this modest tree is a testament to not only survival, but hope. Found among the rubble weeks after 911, it was originally thought to be dead, as many of its roots had snapped and most branches were burned. Someone with horticultural knowledge thought otherwise and sent the plant to the botanical garden in the Bronx. Experts there lovingly coaxed the tree back to health, and in 2010 returned the tree to its rightful place. The irony of the story is this: Those who know the way callery pear trees grow understand that their upward branching pattern often limits their ability to thrive. Instead of reaching outward, like most trees do, pear tree branches have a more vertical slant, with narrow crotch angles that break easily, causing trees to split. But not this callery Pear tree, which continues to reach skyward, it's branches fully extended toward the heavens.

I'd never go so far as to say the 911 Memorial site is a happy place. It will never be that. Yet the thoughtful design and inclusion of nature--always inspiring--gave me a sense of peace I never expected to find there.

All-natural insect aid

Due to our mild winter, ticks are thriving in the Northeast right now. And, thanks to our exceptionally wet spring, the flowers are larger than life itself. This offers even more foliage for critters to hide in. I got into the habit of spraying myself with bug and tick repellent months ago, but every time I do it, it seems like I'm getting more of the toxic stuff in my lungs than on my skin. Even when I hold my breath, spray, then run away before inhaling again, the mist seems to surround me in noxious vapor--which takes the express route up my nostrils and down my windpipe. Tiring of the daily coughing fit to expel the poison, I've started looking for alternatives.

As usual, nature provides cures for what ails us. I've discovered the humble balm plant (Melissa officinalis). It's a perennial herb, native to the Mediterranean and Middle East, yet is cultivated here--mostly for culinary use. It can grow up to 3 feet tall and has yellow, rose, or bluish white flowers. The leaves can be crushed into a poultice for bug bites, or even spread on skin to discourage gnats, ticks and other annoying pests. The lemon scent, so pleasant to us, is distasteful to most bugs. Except bees. Personally, I love bees. I find their hovering reassuring: the plants in the area are getting pollinated. If you don't share my affection for them, keep your balm usage to the culinary variety.

Balm is a popular substitute for lemon thyme, due to it's strong lemon flavor and scent (which is why you'll also find it in potpourri, liqueurs and perfumes). Balm tea is a tasty beverage, with just a tang of lemon flavor. In fact, balm tea was traditionally used to treat insomnia and intestinal disorders. Seek medical advice before treating anything with balm, but try planting this versatile herb in your garden for an exotic flavoring and all-natural bug-inhibitor.

This is why I garden

All right, I'll admit it: all the rain this spring was really bumming me out. Seems like I'd just finish mowing and weeding my yard (between raindrops) and I'd have to start all over again! Now, I love to be in my garden, but I like just a bit of down time between chores. And let's face it, my annual garden party isn't much fun when the guests are soggy and the wind gusts are severe.

Granted, I've been spoiled. Last year we had a drought, so, not much garden maintenance. Yet the blooms weren't as abundant, vibrant or long-lasting. That's a high price to pay for less work. I mean, really, we only get to witness each flower's bloom for a fleeting week or two per year (or, in the case of day lilies, only a single day)! What a colossal disappointment when our garden gems can't give it their all!

So, much as it pains me to say it, BRING ON THE RAIN! The garden looks fantastic this year! Weigela and iris (top) impress against a backdrop of pachysandra, while wisteria blossoms roam their wrought iron arbors with abandon (above). Fuschia rhododendrons offer a warmer-than-usual welcome to visitors taking the modest side entrance (below, left), and playful poppies are sprouting endlessly--three times as many buds as usual (below, center). And then there's the peony, my favorite, at the very bottom of this page (far right)--the first bud of the season, just starting to unfurl.

Ahhh, Spring!

Artful arrangements

When I was in Austin a few weeks ago, we visited a graffiti park. If you're familiar with that city, you'll relate to their motto: Keep Austin Weird. It's a great place to revel in the offbeat and marvel at the creativity that flows like water through a swollen river.

At the park I noticed that not even the plant life in the area was spared from the spray can (above). The whimsical colors sprinkled on the petals, like Fantasia fairy dust, sparked a few ideas in my own brain. I thought about creating floral centerpieces with whatever flowers could be gathered in nature. Scooping up all manner of foliage and florals, be they desirables or weeds, then dotting them with various colors and arranging them in vases might look fantastic.

It may also prove to be a less expensive floral centerpiece option, since all that's needed are a few paint colors, a willingness to pick flowers, and the patience to arrange them so that they look their best.

Why not give it a try? Got a few cans of spray paint hanging around your garage? Have access to perennials, annuals, or even weeds? Try your hand at creating your own artful arrangement. I'm going to give it a shot. If it looks okay, I'll include it in an upcoming post!

Dandy dandelions

Having been away for the past few weeks, I arrived home last week to discover my lawn inundated with dandelions. Taking to the yard with my spray bottle filled with white vinegar, and my mouth spitting vitriol about weeds that masquerade as flowers, my neighbor dropped by to ask about my cross-country trip.

"It's a shame you're getting rid of the dandelions," he said.

I looked at him, sure I'd misheard him. "What?" I asked.

"The dandelions, I just love them," he said. "They look so nice, popping up in the yard."

I took my finger off the spray-bottle trigger and tried to see the weeds the way he did. "Really?" I asked. All I saw were weeds marring an otherwise uniform green expanse.

"Yeah, I've always loved them. They're so cheery."

That's when his words hit home: One woman's weed was another man's precious flower. I stopped spritzing the yard and went inside with a good book, realizing if I didn't stress so much over what I envisioned as the "perfect weed-free yard," I'd have a heck of a lot more time to catch up on my reading. I have a list a mile long of personal must-reads.

The dandelions continued to grace the grass with their festive yellow blossoms. I remembered that my daughter's favorite color was yellow. I smiled and realized--yet again--it's all in how you look at it: weed or wondrous little flower, determined to thrive despite being (almost) universally hated.

At that moment a chubby little gopher waddled across my yard--eating every dandelion in his path!!! I stared in disbelief as he meticulously made his way from one golden bud to another, until he'd eaten every last one. Then, bypassing my hostas, he wandered off my yard, presumably searching for dandelions at my neighbor's place.

I looked back at my green lawn and let out a small sigh. Yes, balance was restored. And it took no effort on my part. I just let nature figure it out. I've gotta admit, I'm a long way from truly admiring the dogged dandelion. But I've got very little time to ponder that--I've just cracked the spine on a book I've been wanting to read for ten years!

Duck tales

Is there anything that inspires tranquil feelings more than watching ducks calmly paddling in a pond?  I thoroughly appreciate their gentle bobbing, and delight in their duck dives--their undercarriages suddenly on view as their tail feathers point heavenward, and webbed feet scale the water's surface upside down.

Nature at its most serene--or so I've always thought. Yet when we arrived last week at our modest lake house upstate, intent upon tidying the yard for the summer season, the ducks (pictured above) greeting me was a shock. Why? I don't have a pond on my property. Up until that weekend, I had an extra--grassy--lot in that space.

Needless to say, I didn't get the grass cleared of leaves, now that it was a pond. In the 16 years we've owned the place I've never seen it flood like that. Funny how every year is different. We had a relatively mild winter this year, until March hit. During that month we got a season's worth of snow and cold temperatures. It was followed by a few weeks of drenching April rains and, voila, we now have a pond!

It didn't take long to embrace the transformation. As I stood by my new water feature, watching the ducks' antics, I felt a familiar enjoyment wash over me. Sure, my yard probably won't recover for another month or two. I'll be clearing away leaves in late May or even early June, after the water evaporates, but that's okay. I realize the yard isn't the only thing that changed. Sometimes the best thing about nature is its unpredictability.

Think about Mother Nature's everyday surprises: the robin's nest under your eaves; daffodils popping up through the snow; a family of tree frogs suddenly taking up residence in your yard. Little marvels that are anything but mundane.

You know what? I'm really gonna miss that pond.

Basil: a versatile herb

If I could plant only one herb it would be basil (Ocimum basilcum). This member of the mint family, originating in tropical areas of Africa and Asia, has become a culinary staple worldwide. It's easily grown both indoors and out, reaches a height of 1-2 feet, flowers white to reddish from June to
September, and has leaves ranging in shade from glossy green to purple.

I have the purple variety throughout my landscape. I use it as a groundcover. When people ask what it is--and they always ask--I explain the colorful addition to the flowerbeds is wild basil. Because it has a distinctive scent, it discourages wildlife (most of whom just hate heavily scented plants), so it's more than a pretty face in the garden. In order for leaves to fill in, I sometimes nip the flowers, which

Its well-known green-leafed cousin dots my window boxes. I like the lushness of the plants, which envelope the area in a fresh, earthy scent, and produce a plethora of leaves for spicing up culinary creations. In fact, basil has also been used to flavor the liqueur Chartreuse, and is widely used as a tea. Basil tea has been known to relieve intestinal disorders, treat headaches, and even coughs. Historically, basil was given to women during childbirth to reduce labor pains. Traditional folklore entailed using basil as a good luck charm. It was said those who tucked a sprig into a pocket would have an abundance of love and money!

I don't know about that, but I always feel lucky to have this versatile herb in my garden.

Spring shape-up

Ever since my husband bought me a Fitbit this past Christmas I've been viewing the world through a healthier prism. Calculating my energy output and calorie intake has actually become fun. Now that Spring's here, I've happily discovered my longtime love of digging in the dirt pays off big time when it comes to decreasing stress and increasing muscle mass. Here's how:

Mentally: A productive day in the garden boosts self-esteem and focus, while reducing tension. Raking leaves, pulling weeds and prepping soil provides meditative energy which soothes us and teaches us to concentrate on individual tasks--and accomplishing our gardening goals makes us feel purposeful. To make the most of the experience, unplug. Leaving your electronic devices inside helps you disconnect from the wider world, enabling you to revel in the sounds of birdsong and sweet spring breezes. Hint: deep breaths--in through the nose, out through the mouth--enhance the relaxation effect.

Physically: A mere plant-watering session (30 minutes per day) burns more than 50 calories. Imagine how much energy you'll expend tidying up your backyard! Not such a tough row to hoe, is it? Bad puns aside, turning over dirt, collecting--and dumping--debris in wheelbarrows, and crisscrossing your yard dozens of times takes a lot work, but it also burns calories. And it gives back too--in the form of muscle-strengthening exercise. I spent an afternoon cleaning up my yard last week and recorded 20,000 steps on my Fitbit. That's more than 8 miles of walking!

Another plus: tending to your own outdoor spaces is cheaper than hiring someone else to do it. Make the commitment to shape up your landscape and enhance your health in the process. Spend the money you saved on a trip or a special treat for yourself. I plan on getting a mani-pedi and taking a two-week road trip!

Welcome, Spring!

The good new is that today's the first day of Spring! The bad news for northeasterners is that this (pictured above--at least the dogs are loving it) is what our garden spaces look like. Time to channel the inner Pollyanna buried deep within us: temperatures will be in the 50's today and tomorrow, the birds are twittering as if it were a mild summer morning, and the sun actually feels warm on my vitamin-D-deprived skin.

Time to banish the thought of the Nor'easter, six days ago, which dumped two feet of snow on our tenderly sprouting daffodils, crocus and hyacinths. As I dig out the perennial beds, I remind myself of the lovely photos my friend sent me from the recent Philadelphia Flower Show (pictured below).  Looking at the array of floral offerings from the famous event is a tension tamer, to be sure. The colors alone lower my cortisol levels.

If you're as antsy as I am to sample the flora of our area, but know you're at least a week's worth of snow melt away from seeing the seasonal shift in your garden, visit some of the botanical gardens in our area of the country:

New York Botanical Garden, Bronx, NY, has a fabulous Orchid Show, which it presents each spring. This year's offerings are not to be missed.

Brooklyn Botanic Garden's 52-acre section of flowering cherry blossoms will soon be in full bloom--a true harbinger of spring.

Garden in the Woods, Framingham, MA, maintains a 45-acre landscape of native plants--the largest offering in the northeastern United States.

Green Animals Topiary Gardens, Portsmouth, RI, boasts topiary critters of all shapes and sizes .

Elizabeth Park Rose Garden, Hartford, CT, is the site of a famous flower show each spring.

This is just a small slice of the bountiful botanical pie the northeast offers. Each state has a wide variety of venues just ripe for the picking. Check out the ones closest to you.

Get to know Rosemary

I plant rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis) in my window boxes each spring because I'm addicted to the scent, but there are a lot of reasons to love this herb. In addition to scenting the air around it--which keeps wildlife at bay--you can rub the tiny leaves on your skin to smell fresh and discourage bugs. It's also an attractive plant, sprouting pale blue flowers in spring, and its growing habit lends it to easy shaping. I've often seen rosemary fashioned into topiaries.

Of course rosemary is best known as a culinary herb, principally with meats. Chefs of all skills and talents keep this versatile herb in their kitchens. Rosemary tea is also quite popular, and can even be useful in alleviating headaches and congestion due to colds.

Historically, the leaves and flowering plant tops of rosemary were combined with other liquids and oils to create medicine to stimulate liver function and raise blood pressure--concoctions that I don't recommend whipping up in your kitchen! These remedies relied upon rosemary's mildly astringent, antiseptic properties which ancient healers also used to treat skin problems, wounds--and even baldness. I'd steer clear of such remedies, since large doses of ingested rosemary can be poisonous--even fatal. Best to stick with a few flavorful leaves adorning the Rosemary Chicken you're making for dinner.

Native to the Mediterranean, which is much milder than the Northeastern United States, it's not a perennial in these parts, but when planted in early spring, it will last a good five months--right up until the first hard frost in autumn. The scent alone--fresh, clean and ever-so-slightly spicy--is reason enough to add it each year to your garden.

Winter wrap-up--getting the garden ready for spring

March has arrived, which can only mean one thing: spring is right around the corner. Since we had a milder-than-usual winter in the Northeast, I'm eager to get my spring flowerbeds prepped, but I must put the brakes on that plan. March--and even April--have been known to throw climatic curve balls. Best to keep the oak leaves covering tender perennials for a few more weeks.

Still, Spring is in the air and I'm enjoying the clues nature is doling out: magnolia buds, tulips and hyacinths sprouting. Green moss everywhere. What a minute! Moss everywhere? It's a fine sight to see in places I've encouraged it to grow. Not so welcome in other areas. For that reason, I've begun to think of this illustrious time of year as "baking soda month."

Armed with my jumbo-sized box (for $1.98), I take to my front lawn, sprinkling it onto emerald patches like fairy dust. I then relentlessly grind my foot into the areas where moss is marked for extinction. This aggressive action forces the baking soda into the moss roots, killing them. Harsh, I know, but you have to get at it early. Come April, moss spores take to the air. That's moss-speak for "go forth and multiply." Next thing you know, you've got a whole new generation of the green stuff taking up residence in your lawn and flower beds.

A little due diligence is pretty easy this time of year. I mean, really, what else is there to do this early in the season, besides dream of the perfect outdoor space? Take the time to pull the plug on moss now. Your thriving spring garden will thank you for it in a month or two.

Get a jump on your spring garden

All right, I'll admit it: I'm getting antsy for Spring. I know we've still got a full month, here in the Northeast, until things start greening up, but I'm ready to begin gardening. The fact that it's going to be unseasonably warm today--temps are going to climb into the 60's--is all the more reason to start "thinking spring". I know I have to curb my enthusiasm. No reason to imitate my Magnolia 'Stellata' which is teased into bloom each March only to be hit by a killing frost--and see it's fluffy white flowers turn brown. I'll be a bit more cautious.

I'll get into the spirit with a few good old-fashioned bouquets scattered around the place. Even though the hothouse flowers aren't in season right now, a house full of flowers always jump-starts my imagination, and gets me ready to plan my best garden yet!

For those longing to get their green thumbs deep into the dirt, start now, with a few containers. For those of you with a heated greenhouse or plenty of room indoors, now is a great time to start potting annuals (if you can find them). If you're too early, you can start shopping for just the right containers and planning what plants you'd like them to contain. You can also start seedlings.

What to pot up? Depends on the amount of sun you get. In general, any area that receives fewer than 6 hours of sunlight each day calls for shade loving plants. Since that's my issue, I'll opt for the following:

*New Guinea impatiens
*Hosta
*Bacopa
*Oxalis
*Coleus
*Begonia
*Lobelia
*Sweet potato vine

If your landscape is drenched in sunshine, your container choices are virtually endless, but here are a few plants that I think do particularly well in pots that are prone to strong sun rays:

*Agave
*Angelonia
*Canna
*Petunia
*Lantana
*Salvia
*Pentas

As I always say, it's never too early to start planning a spectacular spring garden. The best thing about container gardening is that you can move plants to adjust the amount of light they receive, which ensures they'll look spectacular throughout the seasons.

A walk in the woods

After a cold spell and tons of snow, the weather in upstate New York has temporarily turned milder. In fact, it's going to be unseasonably warm for the next week. This, of course, is reason for celebration--for myself and my four-legged pals. Dog walks aplenty!

While the pooches and I wandered the roads, paths and snowy trails near my home, I realized winter is, in many ways, the best way to enjoy the wildlife in the area. Without the lush veil of leaves, the trees reveal their secrets. I can see exactly where the squirrels nest in the high crooks of branches; I can more fully enjoy the fluttering variety of birds, who may not sing as much--conserving their energy for keeping warm--but dodge and dive from snowy pillar to post. I've learned to identify tracks in the snow. It's how I know to keep an eye out for the skunk who enjoys the shelter of my front porch. His distinct gait (little footprints with that tail-dragging line between them) leads right to the front step.

There's a reason the great poets often chose nature as a theme in their writing. Perhaps Ralph Waldo Emerson said it best when he opined,

“Who looks upon a river in a meditative hour, and is not reminded of the flux of all things?”

We are intricately entwined with our surroundings, but so often fail to notice it. Luckily we can remedy this--by simply taking a walk on a lovely winter morning, and noticing the beauty that abounds.

Pebble mosaic stepping stones

Maybe it's because more than a foot of snow fell yesterday, but in the midst of a very white winter I'm dreaming of spring. Not in the traditional sense--thoughts of crocus and daffodils poking through the snow drifts--but in terms of the ground being covered in anything that's not white!

Anyone who has read previous posts through the years has discovered that I have an obsession with stones. Maybe I was a geologist in a previous life! More likely, as my interest in landscaping grows, I've started to understand how vital non-growing things are to beautiful garden designs. Rocks, stones, wood, soil, mulch. All play their part in the mixing and matching of a miraculous outdoor setting.

One interest I've always harbored, but is now bordering on the obsessive, is the idea of incorporating pebble-stone mosaics into my walkways and patios. My husband is skeptical. I'll have to do a lot of convincing because, let's face it, he'll be doing a lot of "helping out" in this creative endeavor. Creating stone or pebble mosaic patios are not for the weekend-project set, unless you plan on stringing a number of weekends together. It takes a good deal of stone gathering to create even a small patio, so I've decided to start small, focusing my energy on a mosaic stepping-stone walkway.

The first thing to do is collect stones. Since that won't be possible if the stream beds around you are frozen and snow-covered, I suggest checking out drain rock. I have a bulk-stone supplier in my town. He has handy sample boards of every stone he carries displayed in the office next to his desk and three Boston Terriers, who accompany him to work each day. I'm not gonna lie, I go there to visit with the dogs as much as to see what's new in stone style. The best thing about this setup is that he will bag any variety and amount of stones I want. This makes for easy transport as well as allows me to play around with different types of pebbles and stones. If you don't have a local stone supplier, there's always good ole Amazon, which offers bagged decorative stone in all shapes and sizes.

For beginners like me there's an even easier option: pre-laid pebbles and stones on mesh backings (see photo, above). For those experiencing a time-crunch, or are unsure of their creative abilities, the prepared 12"X12" tiles may be the way to go. They're available in a variety of stones and finishes and can be found at Lowe's, Home Depot, Amazon, Wayfair, and a number of other online stores. They're a bit more expensive, but the effect is guaranteed to be more uniform.

Why would anyone want to go mosaic? Like anything else, it's a matter of preference, and a chance to get creative. Stone and pebble mosaics have a long, rich history which, to me anyway, is charming. Dating back centuries to many areas of the world, some of the most impressive examples can be traced back to Portugal and Spain. Lisbon sidewalks boast swirling pebble patterns and the Plaza de Espana in Seville offers great examples of this art, in the form of acres of pebbles set to resemble undulating waves.

As for my efforts, I'm gathering the stones. I'll document the process as I prepare and lay the actual walkway. Stay tuned, more to come!

A tree for all seasons

If you've got a large space to fill, you might want to consider planting a horse chestnut tree, otherwise known as Aesculus hippocastanum. This deciduous beauty can grow up to 100 feet tall, boasts gorgeous bunches of flowers and a graceful growing habit that exudes old-world charm. Gazing at this magnificent specimen when it's in full bloom--from May to June--is truly inspiring. There is a fantastic horse chestnut at The New York Botanical Garden in Bronx, New York. I urge everyone to make a trip to this wondrous place and see this--and many other lovely plants--for yourself.

Often referred to as a Buckeye, this tree can live up to 300 years! Talk about planting for posterity! Other fun facts:

--The nuts on the horse chestnut form inside a round, prickly pod which resembles a porcupine. Historically, European children gather the pods each autumn to use in a game called Conkers, which entails cracking open the pod, and placing each oversized seed on a string. Taking turns, each participant tries to crack his or her seed open by smashing it against a hard surface.

--The first beer-meisters in Germany stored their product underground and used horse chestnut trees to provide cooling shade from up above. The trees were ideal for this purpose--especially during summertime--as their canopy is large yet the tree roots are shallow, which didn't inhibit the tunnels.

--Horse chestnut is used as an herbal medicine in some cultures, mostly to treat circulation problems, fever and enlarged prostate. It is usually administered as an extract from the processed nuts and leaves; however, the medical community in the United States advises caution because of the toxicity factor. As always, I don't recommend using homeopathic concoctions without the supervision of a medical doctor.

No phosphorus for us!

There are things we can do now, in the middle of winter, to ensure everyone's outdoor spaces are healthier come spring. I'm not talking about grand gestures here, but simple things that have the potential to make a big impact.

Topping my list is switching laundry detergent. Yes, that's what I said: laundry detergent. Now what, you may wonder, does laundry detergent have to do with healthy landscapes? Let me explain.

Followers of my blog know about the issue of phosphates in laundry detergent. It's called sodium triphosphate, or STPP, a compound that softens hard water. Problem is, when mixing with waterways, phosphorus encourages algae blooms and low oxygen levels, which kill aquatic life--and ultimately make their way into our human lives. Of course, this is a well-known issue, first brought to public attention 40 years ago, when lakes and rivers turned bright green with algae. In addition, phosphates sourcing has been linked with higher greenhouse gas emissions--not good for our global-warming situation.

 In the past thirty or so years, states--and some European countries--have passed regulations significantly reducing their use. In our country, Seventh Generation has been offering phosphate-free laundry detergent since it began in the 1980s--it's even packaged in a recycled paperboard container. I don't know many people who use it because it doesn't have the name recognition of the heavily marketed products. It also doesn't have dyes, whiteners and fragrances, which can contain phthalates, also known to harm environmental and human health.

A possible game changer: Enter Proctor and Gamble with their latest Tide laundry detergent called Pur Clean. Marketed as "The first bio-based detergent with the cleaning power of Tide," it's unscented, perfume- and dye-free, made with renewable wind power electricity, packaged in a recyclable bottle constructed of post-consumer recycled plastic, and claims to be made in a "zero-manufacturing waste-to-landfill site." My research indicates this means there is no little or no byproduct from its manufacture.

My concern: this product is only 65% bio-based, meaning the water and plant-based surfactants and solvents, pH adjusters, etc. make up that amount. What's in the rest of it? Still, this is a newsworthy development because P & G claims the largest share of the North American market and 25% of the global market share. Having tried the product myself, I can attest it cleans just fine.

Also note: this product is slightly more expensive. Go onto the product website, www.tide.com, and check out coupon sites to claim valuable savings. And if you have to pay a few bucks more, consider the tradeoff: cleaner water for generations to come.

Ultimately, this is a simple step each of us can take to help ourselves. Yet as C. G. Jung so eloquently stated, "Simple things are always the most difficult. In actual life, it requires the greatest discipline to be simple." Make the commitment. Great strides begin with that first, simple step.

All-natural ways to melt road ice

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As winter shifts into high gear in the Northeast, our roads and driveways would clog with ice if not for the rock salt commonly spread on driving surfaces. Yet the traditional salt, sodium chloride, is effective only above 15-degrees Fahrenheit, and has a host of other drawbacks. Not only does it corrode metal, cars, concrete and our leather shoes, but it can harm vegetation- and even aquatic life if it mixes into waterways.

I've discovered a few all-natural ingredients that melt ice more effectively when added to salt--or even on their own. I've listed some of the most promising findings:

Organic sugar beet juice is environmentally friendly and can be used at 100% concentration (though it's actually most effective when mixed 50-50 with brine--a simple salt solution). This juice is especially good for colder temps because sugar lowers the freezing point of ice. When sugar is added to salt, the salt is able to melt at colder temperatures. My husband pointed out that beet juice on clothing stains, yet my research indicates the juice is really more brown than red, and is not supposed to stain. Still, I'll test a small patch of my brick driveway before I spread it all over. Also, make sure the beet juice you use is organic, as certain additives could compromise its effectiveness.

Pickle brine. Don't discard the salty solution once you've scarfed down all those dills and baby gherkins! The leftover pickle juice will work wonders on walkways, melting ice at temps as low as -6-degrees F. Even better: pre-wet driveways and sidewalks with it before a snowstorm to prevent snow and ice from bonding with pavement, making it easier to remove. Put the brine in a spray bottle and spritz slick surfaces. Another plus: your driveway will have the odiferous appeal of a kosher deli.

Cheese brine. Prefer the smell of a dairy to a deli? You may want to spread cheese brine around your walkways. If you make your own mozzarella cheese like my super-talented husband, you'll have plenty of salty waste product to repurpose as a road-salt substitute. Used extensively in our nation's cheese capital--Wisconsin--this solution melts salt down to -21-degrees F! Warning: this is by far the smelliest solution.

Get creative! When you combine salt with pickle brine or beet juice, add a bit of molasses, which provides "stick factor," ensuring ingredients adhere together and on sprayed surfaces. Mix really well before pouring into your spray bottle, then spritz those slick spots for a gentler de-icing, which will help protect your plants.

Seeing green all winter long

Wintergreen is a plant I've always associated with this season--probably due to the word "winter" in it's name, though retaining its lush greenery when most plants don't certainly adds to the impression. The creeping stems of this evergreen native produce branches that reach up to six inches high, and display nodding white flowers from May to September.  Although the delicate blossoms aren't showy, they do offer long- lasting flowering throughout the growing season.

Occurring naturally in woodland areas from south central and southeastern Canada to the north central and northeastern U.S., this plant prefers part sun and cooler spots in the garden--a perfect bloomer for shadier areas.

Historically, oil of wintergreen was used to treat aches and pains, much like aspirin. That's because the methyl salicylate in it is a chemical related to our preferred pain reliever. It's also used topically, in a tea used to treat sore throat or mouth, and can even soothe skin sores and irritations.

Of course, anyone who loves Wintergreen Lifesavers knows the oil is a natural flavoring in candies and gum, though pure, undiluted wintergreen oil is an irritant. Best not to apply it full-strength, unless you plan on spicing up a flowerbed with this perennial. Order it by its botanical name--Gaultheria procumbens--to ensure you get the right plant. That sparse corner of your garden will thank you all year long.

Nature at its coolest

By now readers of my blog are used to my first post of each new year. It always involves describing my family's New Year's Day antics at the annual Lake George Polar Plunge in Shepherd's Park. On the snow-strewn beach beside the frigid water, about a thousand intrepid souls carry on a 44-year tradition, kicking off the new year quite literally, by kicking off their shoes and plunging into the frigid depths of the upstate lake.

I include details of this ritual each January because to me it epitomizes a number of enticing ideas. First and foremost, my family is insane. Let's face it, ya gotta have a little crazy in your DNA to hop from snow pile to thirty-five-degree water, even though the proceeds from the sponsored event benefit worthwhile charities.

Yet when I really think about this craziness, a lot of other words come to mind, too: challenge and fearlessness, camaraderie, tradition--and fun. My family looks forward to "taking the plunge" each year. It's become a way to stretch the holiday season a little longer, giving us all reason to be once again in each other's company, engaged in a group project. Since the process involves dressing up, family members and friends start casting about for the next year's "theme" about 10 minutes after completing the existing year's event. Much bantering and joking goes into deciding what the following year's costumes will be. The final decision isn't usually reached until around Thanksgiving.

In a world that seems to be becoming increasingly colder--with polarizing politics, cyber-bullying, computer hackers and terrorists dominating each day's news cycle-- perhaps a sub-zero outing celebrating togetherness, sharing, giving back and the beauty of nature, is just the thing we need to warm our hearts.