Tag Archives: roses

Product Review: Duluth Women’s chore coat

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OK, they don’t call it a chore coat. They call it a Vintage Flex Firehose™ Coat. I needed a new chore coat, since the one I’d been using was given to someone who needed it a lot more.

A chore coat, or barn coat, or “jacket closest to the mudroom door,” is a sturdy garment you are not the least bit afraid of getting dirty. It may or may not have had a previous, dressier, life before becoming the go-to messy yard work garment for cool weather. It should have pockets, no loose or floppy things that can snag, be washable (or hoseable), and ideally comfortable. The fit is probably a little loose, especially in the shoulders, but not so loose that it gets in the way or hampers work. Color is not important, because it will be dirt colored at some point.

I had been using an insulated canvas jacket that was too big. It got washed and given away when my back was turned. The person who got it really needed something like that, and it fit him better. However, that left me doing yard work in a less-than-great jacket. So, come the holidays, I let it be known that a new chore coat was needed. Family members gave me a gift card, and I started looking.

Firehose™ canvas is heavy, stiffer than the usual garment canvas, somewhat water resistant, and rose resistant. It is smooth enough that it doesn’t snag easily, something that helps plant material stay in the Great Outdoors. Once I put this thing on, I stop noticing the weight. It has lots of shoulder space, pockets that don’t collect dirt unless I’m really tossing loam around*, and the pockets are very sturdy. It is dirt colored, natch. The jacket has no insulation, but that’s what layers are for, and when I’m going up and down ladders, or shoveling dirt, or moving leaves, or bending and twisting to weed under roses, or … I get warm without much help.

The coat is longer than what I used to wear, which isn’t a bad thing. The two-way zipper means I can undo the bottom for mobility if I need to, not that I need to very often. The length also helps keep some of the dirt off**. Even Sweetbriar and Lydie Rose have trouble getting thorns through the canvas, a major plus. They skitter off the surface, although I’m not going to go out of my way to test just how thornproof this coat is. That’s what leather rose gauntlets are for.

I’d recommend the chore coat to ladies who really get into dirty yard work, people who need an abrasion and puncture resistant every-day coat (dog owners with mouthy puppies, perhaps?), and anyone who tends to have soil leap onto her from six feet away. It is not lightweight, and come summer, it will probably be a little much, but that’s why I work before the sun is really up.

*I was digging and tossing dirt and leaves and sticks out of the gutter, from a shorter-than-deal step ladder. Dirt flew far enough that I found it in pockets.

**Dirt will find a way. I mean, when dirt and leaves get down the collar of a closed-collar flannel shirt … I was impressed.

FTC Disclaimer: I purchased this coat with a combination of a gift certificate and my own money, for my own use, and got no credit or consideration for this review.

So, What’s Causing the Hole?

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I did not intend to spend an hour and a half doing yard stuff. OK, that was after going by the hardware store to get topsoil and water-proofer for a wall. The soil is to fill in a hole in a flowerbed. The waterproofer is to cover the wall by the hole so that the brick won’t deteriorate from water spatter or the sprinklers.

Then I trimmed and cleaned a long-neglected flowerbed, or at least the neighbor’s half of it. That is, what I could do without multiple bags of mulch and a load of compost, because I don’t want to remove all the leaves as a cold spell starts without something to cover the soaker hose and rose roots, and amend the soil, and …

Ninety minutes later, as I coiled up the hose after watering other plants. I wondered why I was tired. And why the clay in the new hole still looked wet.

SIGH. And if I have any hole-filler left, where a faucet head and pipe used to be, that now needs to be filled, and a wire brush to finish cleaning the brick so I can paint the first coat of water proofer onto it, and …

The hole, as it turns out, is from an old water softener tank that was at long last removed during the massively major huge plumbing event last week. Which is why I am hand watering because of cut irrigation hoses. So the hole needs to be filled, and the bed sloped away from the house once more. And mulch, compost, and top soil put down on top of the clay that was once under the house, so the plants have a fighting chance.

SIGH.

At least I got words written, too.

Mission Creep: Garden Edition

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I was going to trim the buddleia and whack back some overly energetic columbine that had swallowed a miniature buddleia. That’s all, ten minutes’ work at most. A hour and a 55 gallon garbage can later, I finally got around to trimming the buddleia.

Oops.

Tending the garden tends to be like that. You set out to dead-head one rose, trimming off spent buds, or thinning the hips if it is that kind of rose. While trimming, you see a weed, and remove it. In doing so, you realize that part of hthe rose is leaning and endangers the neighbor when he mows on that side of the flowerbed, so you get a stake and tie up the errant cane. That reveals more weeds, and something that ought not be there. And the salvia look past their prime and have started choking out something, so more trimming, and you find a bunch of snails under the old salvia so those have to be dispatched into the road, and … An hour has passed, and a large mound of trimmings and uprootings (spent moss roses) is blocking part of the driveway, with more littering the neighbor’s lawn. That won’t do, so you lug the big garbage can around the house and fill it, then deal with the columbine and some weeds in that flower bed.

Since the garbage truck came the day before, the trimmings and so on go into the dumpster, way in the back. Might as well do the cat pan while the dumpster is open, and take out the wet garbage before the chicken scraps take on a life of their own. Since you are in the back yard, now you finally get to trim the other buddleia, and pull a few more weeds, and uproot two tree seedlings. Then finish the cat pan, which has been rinsed out, scrubbed, and is baking in the sun.

Rarely does “a quick chore” in the garden get done without a few other things happening. Heck, the next day I went to refill the water for the animals, and ended up weeding a different part of the front bed, since I was there, and saw spurge. The lantana needs to be confined, and more columbine trimmed (OK, whacked back before it takes over the block). But not with supper yet to cook, and school email to check.

Working in the garden is a bit like going onto the Internet. You start with one particular task, and suddenly an hour has passed and you are on a tangent from where you started. If that task is done bravo! You’re ahead of a lot of people. However, you probably have not filled a big garbage can full of detritus.

Garden Armor

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The time had come to deal with Gertrude, and what has been growing up inside Gertrude. Bare arms and hands are not an option, neither is a light sun-shirt. No, it was time to armor up. A heavy canvas jacket, something over my hair (to prevent snags), and rose gauntlets. Thus protected, and armed with clippers, I waded into the fray, er rosebush.

The problem is that getting inside this tall, whippy, thorny rose requires limberness of body and insanity of mind. Windy days? Oh heck no, the risk of getting a cane in the face is too great. Saturday did not dawn, but lightened under heavy clouds, calm wind, and 52 degree air. The time had come. I donned armor and set about thinning a lot of daisy-like branches from around the base of the rose. Then I trimmed back other things and uprooted an oak sapling. That let me get close enough to see where the problem plants were.

Because of damp soil, I couldn’t step into the flowerbed. Instead, I used one arm to ease the floppy rose cane out of the way as much as I could, and leaned in, twisting. My targets had grown up inside the rose, working between the thorny mass. With great care I worked the blades of the clippers between the rose branches and snipped away at the saplings. Three pecans bit the dust, at least for now. It will have to be done on a regular basis, since there is no way to dig up their roots. Bush-b-gone inside of the rose? Nope. Careful trimming with hand-held clippers, rose gauntlets to the elbow, heavy canvas and denim, that’s what does it and nothing else.

I eased out of the mass of greenery, moved the clippings around to the other side of the flowerbed for collection, and waded (literally) into the mass of columbine threatening to choke out several more roses and the neighbor’s grass. The columbine is not supposed to be in the grass, but the birds are not picky about where they drop seeds. I sheared an armload of greenery and freed up two roses.

With this sort of garden, one thing that’s vital is keeping air flow going around the roses. If it gets too confined and stagnant, disease becomes a greater concern, as do pests. Even if things are flowering, I have to cut them back if they start blocking in the roses. We jokingly call this shearing, as in “shearing the salvia.” They are usually the first offenders, but the columbine have been especially prolific this year, so they are getting whacked back as well. Once salvia bloom, they get cut back. Snails have been lurking under the salvia and columbine, which is another reason for the regular “haircuts.”

While it was cool and I was protected, I also got behind some other roses and removed weeds. Dead-heading the fall butterfly bush was the last task of the morning, then carrying out those trimmings that can’t go into the composter. Soon fall work will start as the roses get their third wind and need to be dead-headed, dead canes cut out before winter, annuals removed as they expire, and compost put down. Fall grass reseeding comes in late September or early October, along with starting to winterize things, put up bird feeders, and so on. Only after the third hard freeze will most garden and yard work stop. Even then, there will be swaddled plants on the back porch to be checked and occasionally unwrapped, sunned, and watered.

Sometimes You Need the Loppers

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For a lot of reasons, parts of the yard went untended this summer. With all the rain, and the lush growth of other things, this concealed pecan saplings and oak starts, along with a spring butterfly bush that went irrationally exuberant to the point of eating two roses. If you have ever dealt with pecan saplings or seedlings, you know that after two or three leaves appear, the roots start heading for China, and getting the things out of the ground is very difficult. As big as one of these things was, I suspect I’d need dynamite, a back-hoe, and a passport to get deep enough to remove the root. And the pruning shears were not sufficient.

Like this, but with straighter, longer blades. Source: https://www.interiorlandscapingproducts.co.uk/pruners/cutters/trowels-etc

We have three sets of lopping shears. One has a ratchet action, for things like the Sweetbriar, or the trunk stems of butterfly bushes. You work the blades down, and they cut through the stem. Yes, you can use a saber saw as well, but sometimes the saber saw doesn’t fit, or you need the additional leverage and length of the loppers. The other two are just … huge. I got the medium-sized set, and a dandelion digger for something else. As I marched out of the garage, the passing dog walker gave me an odd look.

Armed with the lopping shears, heavy gloves, and a heavy canvas shirt, I waded into the fray, er, perovskia and roses. The scent of sage filled the air, and the pecan seedling toppled, sheared off at ground level after two chops. I tackled four more trouble spots, sliding, twisting, and ducking under roses, Buddleia, and other things, and dragging out the stems and small trunks of two oaks and a goodly number of pecans. I also sheared a Buddleia that had some dying branches and removed those. I only got scratched once, when a determined rose managed to snag both my shirts and get me. Fair’s fair.

Careful use of the big shears allowed me to reach things I can’t safely do otherwise, or that would entail stepping on other plants. It takes discernment, control, and careful planning sometimes, but the problem plants can be sheared without hurting what grows around them.

Occasionally, life is like that. You need the loppers to deal with problems that were small and manageable, but that got set aside, or that other people ignored, and now need serious attention. Sometimes, cutting things off at ground level and applying a little Bush-b-gone to the stem is the best solution. Toxic people in your life who refuse to change or who keep pushing for one more chance? A piece of furniture that is long past recovery, and is losing any sentimental value? Bad habits that were harmless, and now devour too much time, energy, and other resources? A job that has changed, or you have, and it is time to look for greener pastures? Sometimes pruning helps, and pinching back, and sometimes you need the big shears. Careful planning, and knowing when and where to trim, are important parts of that both in your garden, and in your life.

I felt better after cutting down the treelets. The good plants will do better as well. I restored visible order to the garden, a tiny bit of control in a life that turned … not chaotic, but that changed a great deal in a short time this summer. Spurge, unwanted trees, dead stems, fallen sticks from Monday’s storm, they all now repose in a garbage can, waiting to go to the dumpster. I worked, I tidied, I brought a bit of order to the controlled chaos of a cottage-style garden. A new equilibrium of sorts is developing in the garden and in my life.

Lopping shears sometimes make that easier.

Drat you, pecan seedling!

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A long, skinny would-be pecan tree is hiding among Gertrude Jekyll’s canes. I can cut off part of the [rude word], but not the bulk of it, not even from other angles. Even armored, with rose gauntlets on.

The little [other rude word] gave me the middle leaf.

Even ripping and trimming out excessive moss roses and fennel didn’t assuage the insult. Little [really rude word.]

Ta-ra-ra Bloom-diay

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Salvia and roses. Author photo.

So, the roses have cranked it into gear, and the salvia is starting its annual attempts to take over the world. There’s a reason that once every few weeks someone gets the big loppers and “shears back” the salvia. Trimming’s not enough.

The pinks are a newer kind. Purple is the most common locally.

The tallest, pink roses are Gertrude Jekyll. They started as grafts, but developed rhyzomes and are now own root, and at least 20 years old. They have an attitude, and like to “reach out and touch someone” when the wind is strong. The yellow roses in the first picture are Julia Childe and (behind her) Henry Fonda.

Cinco de Mayo, and Salvia.

Cinco de Mayo has a lovely scent, and small, slender, very sharp thorns. Think of a branch with hypodermic needles.

Went for color, not for style.

The raised beds are full of “something colorful.” They are designed to be easy-access, so people don’t have to climb up on them, or struggle to reach the plants in the middle. Bright and clove-scented dianthus compete with snap dragons, salvia, roses, and other things. We’ve actually had spring this year, and enough humidity that the scents are actually noticeable from several feet or yards away. Usually you have to put your nose into the blooms to smell anything.

Bloomin’ Plants!

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Everything decided to wake up, all at once.

The columbine are a bit thick.
Gertrude Jekyll before trimming. She is now only 6’ tall, not 9’ and whippy.

Rosa unknownius. Prolific, mild scent, and none of us can remember which one it is.

Columbine of many colors. There is a rose in there, and a few other plants. Or there was/were …

Firesprite is hanging in there, despite the hedge and tulips.

Honeysuckle, anyone?

Owl eye looking at you.

When you plant for color and not for tidiness.

How’s The Garden?

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Ask me in a few weeks. I suspect I will be replacing roses and other plants thanks to the bitter cold over the last few weeks. Or rather, thanks to the Arctic – Gulf – Arctic cycle that tricked plants into budding out.

Again. SIGH.

I’m not really a fan of bitter cold, but over time, I can adapt. Likewise, plants that have a dormant cycle need to stay that way, and extended seasonal cold helps. Bulbs need that long cold to trigger certain processes and to keep them healthy (or “why you don’t grow tulips along the Gulf Coast.”) One winter, up in Nebraska, it was below freezing for six weeks and below zero for two of those weeks. The commercial nurseries loved it. They set the greenhouse heaters to keep things at freezing, then left everything else alone. Breaking dormancy was not going to happens with those plants! It turned out to be one of the best gardening years the following spring and summer.

Extended, seasonal cold also tends to knock plant pests back to mostly-tolerable levels, and kills some introduced weeds. Winter is there for a reason, so to speak.

So, this year … December was mostly mild to chilly, as is normal. January started warmish, then dropped into the negative numbers. Most of the plants were still napping, so this was OK for gardeners. The rest of us weren’t thrilled, although the snow came as a very welcome relief. Snow is very, very good. Cold and snowy insulates plants, and improves soil moisture more than winter rains usually do. Thick snow on winter wheat is a great and wonderful thing. Ditto roses and bulbs.

Then it warmed up, into the 60s and 70s. Things began to bud. MomRed threatened to empty the ice maker and sacks of ice onto the flower shoots poking up, to make them stay in their winter nap.

Here came another arctic front, with a little moisture but not much. It got down to 0 F in town, colder in the open areas. With winds to match, dry arctic winds that suck the moisture out of everything. The wheat might have made it through. The roses and flowering trees? Not great.

I suspect I will find split canes, dead branches, and other things once spring really returns. Pruning and replacement will follow. Any grafted roses are probably toast, killed off to the graft site with only the root stock remaining. Out they will come. The swaddled, sheltered, and pampered patio rose might make it intact. We will see. And of course Gertrude Jekyll and Sweet Briar will survive. I’m not sure anything short of the Sun swallowing up the planet will do in those roses.

Ah, gardening on the High Plains. SIGH.