Putting Down Roots - Softcover

Johnson, Cliff

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0967092701 ISBN 13: 9780967092706

Publisher: Cliff Johnson Marketing, 1999

Synopsis

A delightful blend of gardening wisdom, wit and whimsy.

Book is divided into Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn sections. Topics include selection and care of trees and shrubs; horticultural travelogues from trips to Greece, Turkey, Egypt and other destinations; gardening nostalgia and humor; interviews with gardening experts; how-to gardening advice for contending with Upper Midwest's weather extremes and other environmental stresses.

About this title

About the Author

Cliff Johnson, 52, is a journalist and marketing consultant. In addition to maintaining his own 1-1/2 acre country garden, he is an active volunteer with the University of Minnesota Extension Service Master Gardener and Tree Care Advisor programs.

From the Back Cover

"There are very few of my 300+ gardening books that I've read cover to cover, but that's what I did with this book. It's delightful and good storytelling!" Rebecca Kolls, Rebecca's Garden. "Cliff Johnson has interwoven gardening tips from his own life experience and from authorities throughout Minnesota. He combines useful information while placing Minnesota in a global gardening picture, with notes from his worldwide travels. From giant pumpkins, to new suggestions for shade trees, here is down-to-earth, reliable information for northern gardeners. Very enjoyable reading." Mary H. Meyer, Extension Horticulturist, University of Minnesota "This book is a welcome addition to the limited palette of horticultural information written specifically for Upper Midwest gardeners. It combines sound gardening experience with a bit of his personal background and a touch of local fare." Mike Heger, Owner, Ambergate Gardens, Victoria, Minnesota. "I really enjoyed this book. I found it all entertaining, easy to read, and sound information when it came to the discussions of trees and shrubs. I didn't pay too much attention to the articles on vegetable gardening since I still associate that with a form of punishment from my youth." Gary Johnson, Urban and Community Forester, University of Minnesota

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

What causes an interest in gardening to germinate?

I'm sure my mother - a loyal reader of this column - could recall instances during my childhood when I balked at hoeing weeds, thinning carrots or picking beans. Has there ever been a kid who liked these jobs? Despite possible evidence to the contrary, my memories of gardens on our farm are positive. I thought of those gardens the other day as I pondered how a person's interest in gardening develops. I suspect there's no single common thread - each of us was no doubt influenced by some slightly different set of factors that caused us to want to go out and dig in the soil each spring. I've also puzzled over why I enjoy gardening while friends of mine with similar careers, lifestyles or hobbies exhibit no interest in gardening. In my case, being raised on a farm was a natural precursor for gardening because each new season brought another cycle of growth of the farm crops we raised and the vegetables, flowers and trees we planted and harvested. Our main garden on the farm began each fall or spring when Dad ran the 3-bottom plow through the garden plot just south of our house, turning the soil to a depth of at least eight inches. After another pass with the field disk, the garden was ready for a hand raking and row preparation. My uncle Vincent loved gardening - particularly flowers - and he was also an adult leader of the Silver Creek 4-H club. That meant we could count on his critical inspection each summer when the 4-H tour visited our farm to review our projects. There's something about 4-H tour that is a motivator for pulling a couple of extra weeds. Like every kid ever born, I remember complaining about the mundane tasks of hoeing and weeding. But I remember more clearly and with more fondness the many fruits of our labor. Early each spring, the rhubarb would push through the ground in April and Mom would make terrific pies and cobblers. We savored the seasonal fruits: strawberries, raspberries, elderberries, currants, gooseberries, plums and choke cherries. I remember the rows of lettuce, carrots, beans, peas and radishes that were eaten fresh during the growing season and canned for enjoyment in fall and winter. I looked forward to selecting ripe ears from the short rows of sweet corn in our garden; later, we decided it was a lot more efficient to plant sweet corn using one or two of the planter boxes of the field planter. For 20 years, my wife and I and two children lived on a 40-ft. wide Minneapolis lot. The close quarters didn't permit the luxury of long rows of vegetables and rambling flower beds. Tight spaces taught me how to garden in containers, on trellises and in compact plots. This period also taught me the value of paying for landscape design. I was capable of some basic plantings, but the professional landscape designer studied our space and inquired about our interests, likes and dislikes. Then he delighted us with a creative plan that combined perennials, shrubs, boulders and ornamental trees that made our cramped space very special. I enrolled in the Master Gardener training program when my wife and I made a decision to build a new house on a wooded lot in the country. I knew the knowledge gained from the Master Gardener training would be valuable as I slowly and thoughtfully developed the excavated space around our new home into gardens. Gardening, I've decided, is kind of like a terminal disease... once you've caught the bug, you've got it for life. We play softball until our bodies complain at age 35 or 45 that it's time to place the glove on the shelf. Gardening, on the other hand, can reward us into our advanced years. My parents at age 85 are looking forward to another growing season where they can enjoy their perennials and annuals, along with strawberries, tomatoes and green lawn. I like to garden because someone in my past took the time to whet my appetite and stir my imagination for the miracle that happens each year when we grow things or simply watch things grow. As you prepare to launch into another growing season, think about children or friends with whom you can share this gift. Introduce them to the fragrance of the lilac, the miracle of new leaf buds, the delightful taste of peas popped out of the pod, and the mystery of underground roots. And then sometime next spring, take a few minutes to sit on your deck and ponder how your passion for gardening originated.

Card-carrying Minnesotans should know a pine from a spruce "This hole dog-legs to the right, so aim at that pine tree," my golfing partner advised. There wasn't a pine in sight. Up ahead I saw a spruce, but certainly no pine. "You mean that Colorado Blue Spruce 300 ahead yards ahead on the left side of the fairway?" I asked. "Whatever," he said, not even pausing to acknowledge his faux pas. "That's right where you want to be for best approach to the green." As golf advice, it was good. But how many other folks do you suppose this low-handicapper has steered the wrong direction, horticulturally speaking? It's a funny thing about "evergreens" - most of us are enchanted by pine trees and spruce trees and other needle-bearing members of the conifer family, but when it comes to telling a pine from a spruce from a fir, many people don't have a clue. Our enchantment with evergreens may stem from our association of evergreens with adventure or leisure vacation outings spent "up north." Our northern conifer forests are one of the main topographical differences between the northern and southern halves of Minnesota. Let's face it - listening to the wind whistle through the needles of a thick stand of Norway pine is a far more memorable sound than listening to wind blow through an elm tree. I recall the half-day drive north my family took one week every August when I was a young farm boy visually accustomed to cow pastures and corn fields. "It won't be long now," my dad used to say, somewhere in the vicinity of Little Falls or Long Prairie. "It won't be long now and we'll start seeing the 'tree line.'" He was referring to that area of our state where the oaks, maples and other hardwoods of central Minnesota give way to the dark green pyramidal shapes of millions of spruce and red and white pine. I'd sit forward in the back seat of our '52 Buick and, for the next 50 miles or so, strain my eyes for the first sighting of that magical wall of pine and spruce. Today, we've planted so many pine and spruce between here and Brainerd that the distinct treeline I remember from my youth no longer exists. In fact, depending on which road you travel, one might conclude that the tree line starts just north of Chaska and just keeps getting thicker as you drive north. For the record, conifers are trees that don't drop their leaves (yes, needles are leaves) in the winter. Trees that drop their leaves each fall, like maples, ash and oaks, are called deciduous. It is my belief that, as a card-carrying Minnesotan, you should - at the very least - be able to tell the difference between a pine and a spruce. Next time you're on a golf course, or walking outdoors anywhere else, for that matter, why not impress your friends with several of these distinctions between our most popular conifers. Red (Norway) pine (Pinus resinosa) is Minnesota's state tree. It has 5- to 6-inch long stiff needles, two to a cluster, that snap or break clean when bent. White pine (Pinus strobus) has 2- to 4-inch long needles, five to a cluster, that are soft, fine and flexible. Scotch pine (Pinus sylvestris) has 2-inch long twisted needles, two to a cluster, and orangish-tan bark. Blue spruce (Picea pungens) has very sharp 1-inch needles, borne singly, that are rectangular in cross section. Needles can be green, bluish-green or blue. White spruce (Picea glauca densata) is commonly known as Black Hills spruce. Needles, which are borne singly, are slightly shorter than blue spruce needles and not as sharp. Other conifers common to this area include northern white cedar, eastern red cedar, Norway spruce, Balsum fir, Douglas fir and eastern hemlock. Now, if you want to really impress your friends, tell them about the eastern larch (tamarack). This is a decidious conifer - it drops its needles in the winter and grows a new batch each spring. By the way, I sliced my drive and took a double bogey on that hole. I should have aimed at that pine tree...

Edition details

• Publisher: Cliff Johnson Marketing
• Publication date: 1999
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0967092701
• ISBN 13: 9780967092706
• Binding: Paperback
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 176