Cold Snaps and Telling It Like It Is

A bit from the new book & crazy climate preparations

With a new book coming out, I get seriously anxious about one issue, and it’s not the final stages of crediting photos or indexing chapters. Instead, I wring my hands, and I worry that I may say something in the book that I shouldn't say.

Some of you who've read what I write smirked at that. Those folk are thinking it's too late – especially after the Garden Disruptors book.

In this book, I take some pointed shots at the commercial horticulture industry. I worry because I'm sort of part of it—but only sort of. My goal is for people to be successful in growing plants. Understanding some industry shortcuts can keep you from wasting time with bad plants. Just as important, understanding and refusing some industry sales techniques can also help reduce our environmental crisis. Above all, I love this Southern ground and want people to respect and connect to it.

No, what I worry about is silly stuff that I learned as a child from my very Southern, very proper parents. Like nice boys, don't cuss.

Well that lesson didn't stick. So in the book, Marc, the layout guy, and I are thinking about some little sticky notes on the side, like this:

But damn, isn't it true? Last week, we were out in shorts, digging new trenches to plant potatoes and dividing crinums.

Camellias, snowdrops, queen's tears, Japanese Magnolias, redbuds, and even some little wildflowers were in bloom. Tonight, 23 F'n F!!!!

New hollies will be laid on their side and covered. Camellia sassanqua flowers will burn. Evergreens, laid together for warmth. Frost cloth over lettuce, spinach and other winter crops.

Y'all know what to do at this late hour: unhook your hoses, lay your evergreen potted plants on the side, pull your porch plants in, and cover them with a blanket. We're gonna lose flowers and a few buds, but established plants will be fine.

But newly arrived plants from Florida, like Dahoon hollies, would normally be fine, but since they are not established, since they may have new tender growth, they're getting laid over and covered with a frost cloth.

Every year, a TV station or paper calls me to advise people what to do. I'll act all nonchalant and say, "Look, it's part of our climate; most things will be just fine so don't worry about the small stuff."

Then I'll get back into the warm office, look over some new layout work from the book graphic guy, and worry about the small stuff.

The new book is something like this: If I took my Horticulture 101 textbook from college, which had chapters on soil, water, design, propagation, etc., and updated it with 30 years of experience and crossed out all the college bullsh*t, this would be the new book. It's the guide I wish I'd had when I was starting out - a straight-talking, hard-won-wisdom-filled handbook for becoming a successful, earth-friendly gardener. I've poured my heart and decades of experience into these pages, and I truly believe it will make a difference for anyone looking to up their growing game.

Stay tuned for news on the launch date. Tell your newspaper reviewers and symposium coordinators, and tell the plant lovers in your life. Together, we can change the face of horticulture, one truth bomb at a time.

We brought Momma’s Queens Tears into join the porch plants for a few days.