Snow nature’s perfect insulator for plants

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Driving along our gravel road in subzero weather this week, my girls and I came upon a ruffed grouse. Ordinarily, it is rare to get a close-up look at the slow-moving specimen. Usually the only sign of the creatures is the rapid beating sound of their wings and…
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Driving along our gravel road in subzero weather this week, my girls and I came upon a ruffed grouse. Ordinarily, it is rare to get a close-up look at the slow-moving specimen. Usually the only sign of the creatures is the rapid beating sound of their wings and the blur of their form as they take flight to rush away from any disturbance.

But this poor creature, which had been pecking at the small stones in the road or perhaps at remnants of a fallen acorn that had been nicely mutilated for her by traffic, had all she could do to scramble up the snowbank and dart under some young pines by the roadside. There she stood, perched on one probably half-frozen leg, her head cocked and her beady brown eyes glaring at us, quite annoyed by our intrusion. Her beautiful brown-and-white-speckled feathers were fluffed up against the stiff breeze, providing primitive insulation against the elements.

An informed source tells me that ruffed grouse will actually fly high and dive into a snowbank and stay there for a period, using the snow as insulation to conserve body heat. So my thoughts turned to my unsuspecting plants protected under a hefty blanket of snow in the open gardens around my home. With absolutely no effort, they seem to be doing very well for themselves.

This deep into winter, the snow and pressingly low temperatures test even the winter-fondest among us. Indeed, snow inconveniences us all at some point and makes others utterly miserable most of the time. Most likely, we’re not alone in this perception. Surely not all of nature is thrilled with a bounty of snow. We haven’t seen a deer on our farm – and little sign of their transport across their common paths – for weeks now. Turkeys bobble slowly across the top of the snow cover, scratching pitifully under the apples, roses and oaks looking for fodder. Even the slender mice tunnels that appear in the field every year are impossible to spot.

Even so, at this time of the year, there are countless things to marvel at, and snow is at the top of my list of amazing, perfect and awesome things.

For our garden plants, nothing could provide better protection from the dreadfully blustery temperatures of winter. Tiny particles of frozen water, tightly packed, provide the perfect amount of insulating power to protect plants from the powerful force of the eroding winter wind. A thick layer of snow shields the tender ground from the detrimental thawing and freezing action of the sun. In spring, snow provides an essential slow-release supply of water to the earth, and may, in some cases, even provide a nutrient-packed supply at that.

In autumn we pile leaves on our roses, fir boughs on our perennials and wood shavings over our fall-seeded food crops. Yet no insulation, however thoughtfully chosen and cleverly applied, could match Mother Nature’s simple, wonderful concoction of beautiful snowflakes.

Of course the danger in relying on snow for insulation is that in any given winter we may never receive the amount necessary to provide any benefit. But this year we have.

So while the worker, the driver and the shoveler in you are quite annoyed with the “mildly sickening” (as one friend described it recently) levels of snow, the gardener in you must rejoice. These depths of snow aren’t sickening, they are a godsend.

While the poor creatures of the forest and field peck and roam for their next few calories of sustenance, our precious garden plants lie under their tidy blanket. Dormant. Blissfully ignorant. Waiting to emerge, gloriously unscathed, in spring.

Diana George Chapin is the NEWS garden columnist. Send horticulture questions to Gardening Questions, 512 North Ridge Road, Montville 04941 or e-mail dianagc@midcoast.com. Selected questions will be answered in future columns. Include name, address and telephone number.


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