and I don’t think any of my rose bushes survived it. I uncovered them today – to be honest, I’d been too scared to do so sooner, in addition to never feeling it was safe to set them free due to the constant threat of sleet, snow, freezing rain, hail, and all others forms of frozen precipitation in between. I knew that my climbing rose was mostly blackened sticks with not a hint of green, most likely beyond saving, although I will cut it back and hope for the best. The same seems to have happened to the rest of my roses, despite the cages full of oak leaves that Pete and I had placed around them. In the past, that was enough to protect them but apparently not enough to protect my delicate roses from Polar Vortexes.
Uncovering the roses gave me the resolve to look around the rest of my garden, something that I had been avoiding for pretty much the same reason: fearful of what I would (or wouldn’t) find. Well, it was rather depressing, to say the least. There seemed to be no sign of life anywhere. Last year, at this time there were green sprouts everywhere. I’m not talking about the bulbs that were cozily buried underground, oblivious of the cold and wind – and protected by the toasty warm blanket of snow that covered Columbus for most of the winter. All I saw was dead stalks and leaves leftover from last summer, vestiges of the past season’s glories. I just wondered if anything at all survived the frigid temperatures. So sad.
And then I saw this.
Until next time!