Seed packets are starting to jam up our mailbox so Gail and I are getting busy clearing the desk and making the final cuts to our plant orders. All of us, especially those of us who aren’t made of money, know that plants don’t grow on trees. These things are expensive – and for good reason. We all know what kinds of resources go into growing plants and we’re willing to pay the price for what we truly, madly want. But budgets of actual money constrain us into making either-or choices instead of both-and. We just can’t afford to buy every little (and big) thing we circled. – Which is good because where would we put them all? I really enjoy this part of the process because it sharpens the edge of my desire. By the end of the culling sessions we have a much better idea of what we want the gardens to look like.

We’re making other cut backs (cuts back?) too. February light in the greenhouse is so much higher and warmer than January light that it always surprises me. Most of our greenhouse denizens don’t go into a full die-back dormancy over the winter, but growth generally slows way-way down especially in our coolest house. Until right about now. It’s like April in the Rose Garden – time to cut back the plants, like fuchsias, that are just now starting to send out a new flush of growth for the season.

Outside, new cuts have opened patches of sky we’ve never seen before. Last week, Fred and Dan took down a rapidly declining English oak that shaded part of the Rock Garden. That has opened up all sorts of new opportunities for growth and change. – We might even need some different plants…

And finally, have you cut branches to force yet? I almost prefer blooming sticks of forsythia inside than out. They’re so easy and quick – a couple-three weeks in sun and warm water and they’ll be golden. I’m not sure if we’ll have such easy luck with the Paulownia buds (on the right side of the bucket)… Remember – and I only say this because there’s a thief in our neighborhood – always get permission before taking anything from any property that doesn’t truly, actually belong to you.

As you all know, this past Tuesday was the Feast of the Presentation of the Prophet Phil. I celebrated and paid homage as usual but I think I might be losing faith in The Groundhog.

The sun was shining in Punxutawney, PA and Phil saw his shadow. According to tradition that means we’ll have 6 more weeks of winter weather. But here in Bristol, it was cloudy that day. If our woodchuck, a lay rodent, had been ceremoniously yanked from his burrow, it wouldn’t have been the sun sending him scurrying back to bed. Not only that, but other signs seem, to me, to be pointing directly at spring’s corner. Just this week the birds  started to sing again – I heard mourning doves this morning – and the late winter, spring-predicting flowers are showing their colors. The sun is high enough to warm the greenhouse and I could swear that the silhouette of the trees has just changed – I think they’ve filled out a little. I prefer to think that spring is right around the corner – my gut says it’s only 6 weeks away.

Do you believe (in) Punxutawney Phil or the other indicators of spring?

Raise your hand if your houseplants don’t have scale. Anyone, anyone? If they don’t, I’m willing to bet that either Mother Nature loves lucky-you especially (though she may have another plague in store, beware); you have only four houseplants, all begonias; or your plants have been infested with scale insects in the past and you have somehow managed to banish it from your house. If your plants do have scale, don’t be embarrassed. You’re in good company (says me).

I freely admit to having disgusting scale on a few of my plants at home. (For Mr. McGregor’s Daughter’s houseplant census, I also admit to having upwards of 85 plants inside my approximately 1000 sq. foot house…) And I’m sorry to say that ever since we stopped using systemic pesticides, a few scale have found their way back into the greenhouse here and there. If you’re not already familiar with these sapsuckers, scale generally look like crusty brown or waxy yellowish scabs and are often found on the underside of leaves along the midrib, tucked into leaf axils or along the stem. (Mealy bug is also a type of scale which resembles sticky grey cotton goo.)

Scale life-cycle in a nutshell (ha!): Eggs hatch under the protective shell of the female and start their life out as “crawlers”. They don’t travel far or fast – but that would explain how they get from plant to plant especially in a cheek-by-jowl living arrangement. Once they’ve found their spot they lose their legs and settle in for a suck. After molting and morphing into their adult selves, male scale grow wings but lose the ability to eat (no mouth). Males use their day or two window of opportunity to search for and mate with females. Females meanwhile develop a crusty protective shell from their castoff molts.

I have never noticed any flyers, eggs or “crawlers” but I guess I haven’t paid very close attention. I do always notice a fresh crop of immature scale (the small yellowish ones), their honeydew poop and the opportunistic sooty mold that sticks to it. I periodically – probably once a week at home – put plants in the sink for a bath and I go after the individual scale with an insecticidal fingernail.

The recommended treatment (besides systemic pesticides, or introducing another insect into your house to eat the scale – which might be worth a try) is to scrape them off and give the plant a dilute soap and/or horticultural oil wash and a water rinse. But take care to test your chosen method before treating the whole plant. Ferns, for one, are notoriously sensitive to anything but a gentle fingernail and room-temp water, and citrus don’t love oil.

So, fess up now – do your houseplants have scale? What do you do?