It was bitterly cold at the beginning of December. After that things moderated. In early January we had 40s. Tulip leaves were sprouting and hellebores were blooming. I did not even collect discarded xmas trees because I hoped we would sail into March with 20s and 30s.

WRONG! We got the report about 10 days ago that Old Man Winter was returning and sending his boy, Jack Frost, further south. By then it was late January. Most of the xmas trees had already been collected. The few I found were brittle and bone dry. I've got needles all over the car, up the stairwell, and tracking into the house. What a mess.

At Rae's Place I covered the precocious hellebores and Rio Samba roses. On the roofdeck I piled branches on top of the autumn crocus and saffron crocus pots. The temp fell to the singles, but I wasn't worried.

Two days ago I started to worry, The temp kept falling! The stairwell that stays a constant 40 degrees was down to freezing. I immediately went to Plan B. (Plan A was to do nothing and hope for warmer weather.) I filled buckets with warm water and placed them near the plants to try to increase the stairwell temp. The 5 gallon water jug went outside next to the saffron crocus and was covered with evergreen branches and blankets. I've done this a few times the last couple of days.

Horticulture is not always environmentally friendly, especially when you are growing plants outside of their natural zones. As wasteful as this is, I am sentimentally attached to the plants and I thought Plan B would work.

WRONG! Last night it was -10 F or lower. The stairwell must have fallen below 28 F, because disaster struck! My South African winter blooming trio of calla lily, gerbera daisy, and pregnant onion can handle cold temps, but 28 degrees puts a hurt on 'em. They took a hit! The gerbera anc calla are dark, limp, and leaning. The pregnant onion is still up, but there is some discoloration on it too.

Outside it's broke! The brilliant Sun belies the firgid air. The torquoise lake is icy and still. Wisps of white smoke pouring from chimneys and vents is quickly dispersed by the relentless west wind. The streets and cars are crusted with road salt dust. There are no birds. And the air stings nostril and bites hands even through gloves.

Last night after the Superbowl (what happened Rex!), Ma and I filled buckets of water for the pond. The bitterly cold, dry air evaporates water/ice (sublimation). My wife joined us towards the end. Pond bucket brigrade is a hated task, which only occurs in frigid winters with little snow.

The cold is manageable with layers and proper clothing, but my plants and I will be glad to see 30s again.