Putting the Bonsais to Bed

Last fall, I took a bunch of pictures of the process of putting my bonsais to bed for the winter. I had planned to blog about it in November, but we took off for New Mexico right after I took them, and it was all geese and blue skies from then on. Having just taken the trees out of said pit and gussied them up for spring, I thought you might be interested to see how one overwinters bonsai trees in southern Ohio. (I don't know how anyone else does it; the pit and the foil-wrapped trunks are my invention). After that, I 'll show you how you get them out of bed. You don't have to yell at them multiple times; you just yank them out.

To my great cons-tarnation last November**, I found that my bonsai pit, which lies under our west-facing deck, had collapsed a bit. More than that, it was just too small for my trees, some of whom have been growing for--gasp--25 years or more. I have a special love for Japanese maples, and my favorites get a few inches taller each year. This is the best one:
She's about 2 1/2' tall now. The split trunk is courtesy of a 'coon, who knocked her off the porch railing in 1993 and split her down the middle. I was sick about it, thinking she'd probably die, but I taped her together and dripped candle wax on the wound and darned if she didn't grow into the most gorgeous twin-trunked creature, the best of all my trees. Thanks, 'coon, sorta. I don't torture my trees with wires or carving to make them beautiful; I trim them and that's it, so I'd never have done anything that drastic.

A bonsai aficionado who looked at her about five years ago scolded me for having her in a cheap pot.
"I paid $25 for that pot," I replied, a bit indignant.
"Well, that tree deserves a several hundred-dollar pot," he replied. "Where did you get it?"
"I grew it from a seedling."
"Get out."
"I did. I didn't know any better." He looked at me closely, then shook his head, smiling in disbelief.

See, most people take older nursery stock and carve it up and stick it in a successively smaller pots and "train" it as a bonsai. My trees started with me as two-leaved seedlings, cotyledons still attached. This man looked at me like I was some kind of savant, which I guess I am, because I don't know nuthin' about how you're sposed to create bonsais. I just start small and wait, because hey, I'm waiting anyway. Heh.

This is my oldest maple. The picture doesn't do him justice; he's really big around and has terrific twig structure and very small leaves. Cicadas scarred him in 1996, the year Liam was born, and voles have chewed his trunk, nearly girdling him, but he perseveres. What a wonderful tree. If you're wondering, I assign sexes randomly. Japanese maples are bisexual. Mine have yet to bloom or make seeds, something I wonder about. Perhaps I've arrested their reproductive development as well as their upward growth.I hated to put them in the pit while they were still in full fall color, but we were headed for New Mexico, and the forecast was dire. Speaking of dire forecasts, it's supposed to dip to the mid 20's tonight, which means the entire contents of my linen closet is draped across my gardens. @$%&%$*$%!!! I can only reach half of my heirloom lilac using a stepladder, but I've got two bedspreads and a tarp on it. If I have to stand there all night with a hairdryer pointed at that lilac, I am going to have blossoms this spring. Didn't get any last spring; five nights in the 20's at JUST THIS TIME IN APRIL froze it BLACK. Please forgive me another string of expletives.@#$%$#%$^%^&%/!!! Gotta go out and kiss my golden forsythia good-bye, because by tomorrow afternoon it's going to be dark brown. @#$#%$#^%$!!!

I got a couple of the trees ready to put in the pit and realized that I was going to have to enlarge the darn thing if I was going to get any trees in there at all. So I grabbed my LadyGardener shovelette and started to dig:
Then, I reset the cinder blocks.The finished pit, trees in place. I've taken them out of their pots and wrapped the trunks in thick crumpled foil to keep voles from chewing them over the winter. Then I bury them in soil and water them well.
The last step is to roof the pit, once it gets cold, with a piece of tempered glass (a shower door). You can see it behind me, waiting to be deployed. More Zick fashions for your certain derision. I got the Land's End Squall Jacket for $8, probably because it was such a fabulous color that nobody else wanted it. But that's OK. You don't have to make fun of me this time. Remember, I don't have any neighbors, so I can wear what I want.


photo by Bill Thompson III

The bonsais would sleep here all winter, protected from frost and burning winds by their glass ceiling. I water a couple of times a month, otherwise forgetting about them, until April, when I creep softly in to pull them out of their beds and start their season of leaf and growth.

They're all in the foyer tonight. Pfffft.

**what we hillbillies call bein' upset, when "het-up" don't fit