“February’s Forecast”

No more hard freezes for us this month! As yesterday’s temperature reached the upper sixties mark, I headed outside to pull back the frost covers to assess the damage from last week’s bitter cold. My fear that I’d spend the next few weeks tossing dead plants into a makeshift compost pile reigned in quickly. My limp Aloe Vera still hid firm, green leaves in a few spots while some of the smaller pots survived intact. My spider plants, drooping and defeated, always come back by early spring. The oldest bushes out back, Asparagus Ferns, hold a gilded top layer. They’ll bounce back soon. The newly planted Foxtail Ferns survived without a blemish. Out front, an unexpected surprise of a couple of blossoms poured hope into my spirit. 

February’s forecast means new goals for my gardens this spring. Top on the list? Bag after bag of top soil distributed throughout both yards. With my 2025 Wildflower Reference Guide and Seed Catalog from WildSeed Farms, I’ll plot out new choices for me and my gardens. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even get some Japanese morning glory to grace the fairy weathervane this year!

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Love this quirky instrumental by JCMG MUSIC! I know I'm definitely turning a page for my gardens!

  

   

“Schrödinger's Cat”

My Schrödinger's cat moment plays out in real time. 

Under the frost cloth out back sits perfect and healthy Aloe Vera. Their spiky leaves reach skyward with expectant dignity. The cluster of pups surrounding the larger mama eagerly await  new spots in pots for this spring. They hold all of the promise of words like “future, growth, optimism, hope”. 

Or . . . they don’t. 

Once I lift their protective cover, I could find the bitter cold of these past few days has turned them into mush and slime. All of my plans and optimism destroyed by nature’s cruelty. 

So I’ve decided to leave the protective cover in place and not take a peek under it. What I don’t definitely know can’t hurt me, right? 

This ability to hope for the best while I prepare for the worst sums up how I live life not just my gardens, but in other crucial decisions and relationships. At the moment, I can live with a frost cover on some friendships as I grapple with their continued silence. If I don’t contact them, I cannot know for certain if they condone this lawless cruelty. They are Schrödinger’s cat.

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

I think I'm swimming in doubt. Thought I'd share IOUNIO's "Swimming" with today's post. 

“Cold Front— 2026”

Our first major cold front looms in the immediate future. Although we’ve had a few nights with temperatures ducking down into the 30s, they’ve been followed immediately by warm enough nights and days for me to leave our outside plants alone. Some days I’ve pulled back the frost covers to water or allow rain to nourish my large collection of Aloe Veras and newly planted gardens in both yards. Our little greenhouse tucked in the back holds more sensitive plants that can survive a dip now and then, but the little structure can’t handle the stack of cold weather days forecasted for the rest of this week. 

The last few winters, we’ve experienced back-to-back freezing rain, ice, or even snow. I’ve run the scenario through my head on what comes in and where it goes. Yesterday, I shifted furniture around to accommodate our large ferns first. We will pack other plants around them in the front room next to the best source of natural light in that room. The family room, already adorned with inside greenery will crowd in about four or five more plants. I emptied our bathroom, too, to prepare for the smaller pots. 

As we’ll have warmer temperatures with rain for the next two days, I’ll leave the gardens uncovered to take advantage of tomorrow’s promised rain before securing their protective cloths over them before the first cold front of 2026 whips into Texas. 

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Music to listen to as you read today!

"Clumsy With Stress"

 

            While cooking stuffed cabbage the other night for dinner, I stupidly took off my sweat shirt to keep the long sleeves away from water as I washed and prepped the food. I know most people just bunch their sleeves up to elbow height, but mine always rebel, creep downward, and end up saturated. One careless second, and my stomach grazed the edge of the hot pot. My pain threshold is as high as Mount Everest. I quickly grabbed a piece of ice, slid it over the area, and forgot about it until it stung with pain with my evening bath. I carefully rubbed Neosporin on the spot, but left it uncovered during the night. The next morning another layer of ointment soothed my skin and the loose pants and top I wore didn’t contact the area at all. I blissfully went about my daily chores and ran errands most of the evening.

            Of course, my neglect in not covering the section meant by nightfall the area appeared redder than the previous day. Another round of antibiotic salve and a loose gauze bandage prepped the burn for the night. This morning, I cut some Aloe Vera to rub over the spot and found a large bandage to protect it through today’s activities. Although it doesn’t look bad, I’ll check it multiple times today to add whatever protection I think it needs to heal properly.

            One of the first signs that I’m stressed comes with some kind of self-inflicted injury. My mind focuses on whatever’s troubling me and the result of inattention turns into a cut finger, smashed toe, or a variety of scorched body parts. On the surface, I don’t appear to be drowning in stress, but my wound the other day comes wrapped in worry about what tomorrow, and the days after, will bring to me and my family. We cancelled visiting my brother at Christmas because of his bout with Norovirus a couple of weeks before left him too tired for company. The flu snuck into our household, sickening my son for endlessly long days. Fires and furies flame all around us, and I dread January 20^th and its poisonous potentials.

            I promised myself that I’d spend today bagging leaves that we raked into piles the other day, even if today is my “No Chore Thursday”. But maybe I do need to take the entire day off instead of finishing with the yard. Who knows what clumsy move I could make while bending, gathering, twisting and hauling? Better for me to stay safely inside with a pot of Earl Grey hot, a couple of chocolate chip cookies, and my latest read Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind.

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman        

“Being Prepared”

 

First, temporary location

New location in back of yard

 

            In February we picked up a small greenhouse to help our plants weather through the colder days of our usually mild winters. It protected Aloe Vera, Pothos and Jade and various outdoor plants that don’t like temperatures below 60°. We added heat lamps for the coldest nights, and the shelter stayed surprisingly warm. When March rolled in, we moved the portable structure into a new place under our neighbor’s tree where it became a potting area along with a crafting area for projects requiring paints or stains. Gradually, the space filled with odd-n-ends of gardening like empty pots and a dozen glass vases used for rooting plants. I even tossed in several broken down boxes to use to protect the ground whenever I repainted our outdoor tables and planters.

            This week I woke up to a nip in the air that reminded me to check forecasts for the rest of the month. This November’s highs hug into the 80s still, but cooler days and colder nights will appear soon. I realized on Tuesday that it was time to attack the greenhouse mess and begin shifting my more temperature sensitive plants into its warmth.

            I accomplished this task on my own, intentionally longing to fill my days with grunt labor that placed me away from the troubles our world faces. I found a new, temporary location for the cardboard needed for painting our bistro set. Careful not to break anything, I placed the glass rooting vases into a bin that’s far safer than the spot on the greenhouse floor. I lugged all of the unused pots behind the shelter to where I can access them easily if I need to repot anything this winter. I examined all of the plants, added soil to some, and shifted the most temperature sensitive ones onto shelves.

            As each plant found a spot, I noted which ones remain outside, now too large to haul into the greenhouse. Last year I experimented with several types of frost blankets and found one brand that worked well for me and my garden. They stay stored in a bin, available for easy access. This week, I will group together the larger collection of Aloe Vera under the Live Oak tree and swathe them when the nights’ temperatures drop, and uncover them for the warmer days. As we move into colder days, I’ll cluster more of my outdoor potted plants together and nestle them under more frost blankets that are easy to pull back on sunny days.

            Shifting into a new season reminds me of the importance of being prepared. I’ve guided my days with the saying, “Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.” This winter’s preparations may fall short, but I like to think we’ll stay snug and warm and hopeful as we move through this season.

Messy!

Shifting plants 

Filling up quickly

Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman      

“Our Greenhouse Experiment”

 

Hot tub haven

            Back in November, I came up with the idea of taking our old, defunct hot tub and converting it into a “greenhouse” to weather some of our larger, cold sensitive plants. A little brainstorming possibilities, a run through Home Depot for supplies, and we created a cradle for our aloes and ferns.

            Checking the interior temperatures daily shows a successful experiment. The tub’s warmth, always at least ten degrees above the outside temperature, has allowed us to feel pretty confident that the plants will survive this winter safely.

               Until this yesterday.

            Outside, the cold air dipped to a little below freezing. The thermometer read in the forties. That’s probably the lowest our Aloe Vera will tolerate. The ferns, too, may survive this freezing dip if it doesn’t last too long. By this afternoon, the highs should top out in the low fifties, meaning our “greenhouse” will climb into the sixties. Once our daily highs hit the sixties again, we’ll do a visual check to make certain everything survived this snap.

Hot tub haven!

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman