Of garden-variety crimes and the protective benefits of snow

Some cruel and unusual things happen during the long winter months in Maine, but never has this gardener heard of anything more cruel and more unusual than a recent event that nearly desperately psychologically injured a dear friend.

Before one can relate the horrific crime, it is necessary to set the stage. Names and places shall be reserved to protect the innocent. Suffice it to say that the crime occurred in the backyard garden in a quaint, picturesque coastal town that captures the essence of a small Maine community. It occurred in the kind of place where you’d never suspect this sort of thing to happen. The kind of place where people learn to trust and rely on their neighbors. The kind of place that LOOKS just like a place in which we’d all feel comfortable living.

This crime may have changed all of that.

Here’s what happened: My friend returned home from work one evening on one of those frigid days last week. You know, it was the sort of day when one risks getting frostbite on one’s fingers just unlocking the back door. He lives in a townhouse with a tidy back-yard patio garden. A short gated wall connects his home to an outbuilding and separates his back yard from those of his neighbors.

Inquisitive about the weather conditions year-round, my friend has an indoor-outdoor thermometer, you know, the kind that reads the temperature inside the home and is equipped with a sensor that simultaneously reads the ambient outdoor temperature. These thermometers also record the high and low temperatures of the day.

My friend is very fussy about his weather conditions. He placed the outdoor sensor on the shaded, northern side of the walled gate to record accurate air temperatures without interference from the sun. It’s placed on the side of the gate he can’t view from inside his garden or home, on the side of the gate that only his neighbors can see.

Well, on the day in question, he stepped inside his home, set his things down, stripped off his outerwear and dashed to the thermometer’s digital readout panel. Curious to note what the day’s high and low had been, he pressed the necessary buttons. Shock and horror! The low for the day read minus 10.4 degrees. The high for the day read 107 degrees. What? The temperature probably barely cleared 0 that day!

“I think someone’s messing with my mind,” he stated. I agreed. What a shameless, dreadfully cruel act. What a downright crime! One can only imagine the sinister character committing the heinous act: A dark, shadowed figure, awkward and bulky in his winter gear, lurks for a moment on just the other side of the gated garden wall. With an evil grin, he uses a gloved hand to dip the thermometer sensor into a warm cup of tea and retreats to the warmth of his home having committed the daring and audacious crime.

Nasty. Heartless. Cruel.

Actually, it’s pretty funny. On these dreadfully cold days, many of us living in old homes don’t even need to look at the thermometer to get a reading on the temperature. We can tell it’s deep, penetrating cold by the thick layer of ice crystals on the INSIDE of the window panes. But still we have a curious attachment to the indoor-outdoor thermometer.

In our home, the sensor is placed on the north side of the house, in a spot that, in winter, never sees the light of day. It reads the worst possible weather conditions throughout the day and makes us feel as though we’ve persevered through dire times. On the inside, the sensor is placed at chest height only about 6 feet from the wood stove, recording the best possible situation. It makes us feel that whatever is happening outside is irrelevant, despite the fact that the actual temperature drastically drops when one walks through the doorway to rooms away from the wood stove.

In addition to the thermo-crime committed upon my friend, it’s a crime and a downright crying shame that we and our plants have suffered through this cold without a decent layer of snow for protection. Oh, some lucky ones in western and northern parts of the state have had snow, but many parts of central and coastal Maine didn’t receive its benefits during the threatening cold.

For gardeners, our thoughts naturally extend from “How cold is it outside?” to “How are the plants doing out there?” When a hardy layer of snow graces the landscape, we feel better about their condition, regardless of the biting cold. Tiny flakes of snow add, in sum, a significant protective layer to our treasured plants in winter. The miniature air pockets between each flake add an insulating power, buffering the plants from the bitter, whipping wind and the dangers of exposure and possible cycles of alternating freezing and thawing.

So, despite the inconvenience it sometimes causes, snow is the gardener’s best friend in winter. Hope for snow. Hope that it falls in abundance from the sky, layering over your plants like a downy quilt. Worry about moving it out of your way later. And when you do, move it carefully. It may provide clues, in the form of footprints, to crimes committed in the garden!

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.