Thanks for that classic poem, always a favorite!
This is by Vita Sackville-West, probably a better gardener than poet, but she actually gives some good advice. I was wondering what a wattled hurdle is??
Sorry I am not sure how to attach this to a URL.

FROST

Therefore, lest this inclement friend should maim
Your valued plants, plunge pots within a frame
Sunk deep in sand or ashes to the rim
Warm nursery when nights and days are grim
But in the long brown borders where the frost
May hold its mischievous and midnight play
And all your winnings of the months be lost
In one short gamble when the dice are tossed
Finally and forever in few hours,
-The chance your skill, the stake your flowers,-
Throw bracken, never sodden, light and tough
In almost weightless armfuls down, to rest
Buoyant on tender and frost-fearing plants;
Or set the wattled hurdle in a square
Protective, where the north-east wind is gruff
As sensitive natures seek for comfort lest
Thassault of life be more than they can bear
And find an end, not in timidity
But deathÂs decisive certainty.

Those are lovely - Thank you.

I couldn't add a poem, I feel like I've lost 25 IQ points in the last few days. Many of us here on the coast are feeling that way, it's almost a form of post traumatic stress.

We lost a treasured friend to a falling tree. He was walking to help a neighbor inspect an earlier fallen tree and downed wires that were blocking their street, planning to hang warning ribbons, when a second came down.

Of less importance but stressful all the same, we are dealing with the removal of a 95' pine (neighbors) from our house. It was wide enough several branches drove into the ground keeping much of the impact and weight from the roof - chimney, gutters gone and some damage but not extensive considering. With a boom truck to stabilize, a crew got it off the roof; with the help of a lot of caring friends we filled a 20 ton dumpster and still don't have all the debris removed. Many plants crushed, I'm not sure yet what my losses are there.

Unrelated to the tree, I have $1200 damage to blown out porch windows, just makes my front entrance less protected from weather, my house is secure. Considering the losses others have suffered, we're blessed, and we're fine. I hope it's a very long time before I'm reminded again how many caring and generous people we have in our lives. :)

Novita, I didn't know either, but here's a wattle hurdle - I'd meant to include it when I posted:

Morz8, how terrible the storm was for you. To lose a friend to it is dreadful. We missed the worst of the storm here on the Island but the pictures on TV show how bad it was in Washington and Oregon. I have been wondering how many of our PNW gardening friends fared through this storm.

I probably shouldn't post this again but....

Once upon a morning dreary, while I pondered weak and weary
Over many a cold and omnous forecast in the newspapor,
Suddenly, there came a dropping, as of rain so gently plopping,
Softly falling, dripping, sopping, over heath and hill and moor.
Tis not snow, at least, I muttered, not een looking out the door -
Merely rain, and nothing more.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak November
And the deer had just dismembered all my plants (damned herbivores).
Eagerly I wished the summer; winter, it is such a bummer
Nary does one see a hummer* in the garden anymore.
Though Grevillea victoriae blooms brightly as before,
Rain, it keeps them all indoor.

Presently my heart grew stronger, for the sound of rain no longer
dripped and dropped and plipped and plopped as so incessantly before.
Well! said I, A welcome ending to the rain so unrelenting!
Now, before the chance eludes me, I had better go outdoors.
For so many tasks awaited, miscellaneous lame chores -
So I opened wide the door.

Deep into that daylight glaring, long I stood there cursing, swearing,
For now from the sky was falling snow, and not rain as before;
Making not a sound they drifted, subtle, soft, by wind uplifted
Flakes of whiteness now alighting fore the threshold of my door.
Silence, it deceived me sorely; winter with its icy hoar
Settled now its frigid score.

Back into the kitchen breezing, closing door to keep from freezing,
From the cold air briefly wheezing, pitching out the newspapor,
For its forecast had deceived me, and the snow that fell now grieved me,
Now I sat before the TV to discern what was in store.
Now, said I, to get the latest bout this blizzard that doth roar,
TWC** will know for sure.'

But I soon became disgusted, finding they could not be trusted,
For their forecast still suggested rain was all twould be in store.
Surely, said I, Any schmo can look outside and see the snow
That falls upon my garden so, though TWC ignore.
So I cast aside the rèmote, snowy blast preparing for,
Stepped once more outside the door.

Now I knew the task before me, to protect these plants so warmly
Lest they freeze and die, as in the frigid wintertimes of yore.
So I labored, although vainly, for the snow had now quite plainly
Covered stem and leaf completely, blanketing the garden oer.
Yet into my heated greenhouse yet untouchèd by the hoar
I hauled many plants, though sore.

But the nighttime, eer foreboding, now upon me came in closing,
Ere I knew it all was dark, and on the snow fell as before.
And the wind now came up blowing, further worsening the snowing,
While the temperture was lowring, so I had to get indoor,
Lest the stinging crystals biting freeze my body to the core,
So at last I went indoor.

Now the garden, it lies frozen; Im regretting I had chosen
Many plants not suited to this climate far from milder shore.
And the memry of my losses gnaws upon me, while I tosses
Fragments of the plants that froze upon the blazing heap that roars,
Yes, a bonfire to dispose of all the plants that grew before -
Now quite dead, forevermore.

*Anna's hummingbird
**The Weather Channel

Ian, that is hilarious! Morz, so sorry to hear of such a terrible event! What an awful storm, it sounds more like a hurricane. We just got snow and floods, but not much wind. Thank you for the hurdle info - they look great, I always want to make stuff like that

I probably shouldn't post this again but....

Once upon a morning dreary, while I pondered weak and weary
Over many a cold and omnous forecast in the newspapor,
Suddenly, there came a dropping, as of rain so gently plopping,
Softly falling, dripping, sopping, over heath and hill and moor.
Tis not snow, at least, I muttered, not een looking out the door -
Merely rain, and nothing more.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak November
And the deer had just dismembered all my plants (damned herbivores).
Eagerly I wished the summer; winter, it is such a bummer
Nary does one see a hummer* in the garden anymore.
Though Grevillea victoriae blooms brightly as before,
Rain, it keeps them all indoor.

Presently my heart grew stronger, for the sound of rain no longer
dripped and dropped and plipped and plopped as so incessantly before.
Well! said I, A welcome ending to the rain so unrelenting!
Now, before the chance eludes me, I had better go outdoors.
For so many tasks awaited, miscellaneous lame chores -
So I opened wide the door.

Deep into that daylight glaring, long I stood there cursing, swearing,
For now from the sky was falling snow, and not rain as before;
Making not a sound they drifted, subtle, soft, by wind uplifted
Flakes of whiteness now alighting fore the threshold of my door.
Silence, it deceived me sorely; winter with its icy hoar
Settled now its frigid score.

Back into the kitchen breezing, closing door to keep from freezing,
From the cold air briefly wheezing, pitching out the newspapor,
For its forecast had deceived me, and the snow that fell now grieved me,
Now I sat before the TV to discern what was in store.
Now, said I, to get the latest bout this blizzard that doth roar,
TWC** will know for sure.'

But I soon became disgusted, finding they could not be trusted,
For their forecast still suggested rain was all twould be in store.
Surely, said I, Any schmo can look outside and see the snow
That falls upon my garden so, though TWC ignore.
So I cast aside the rèmote, snowy blast preparing for,
Stepped once more outside the door.

Now I knew the task before me, to protect these plants so warmly
Lest they freeze and die, as in the frigid wintertimes of yore.
So I labored, although vainly, for the snow had now quite plainly
Covered stem and leaf completely, blanketing the garden oer.
Yet into my heated greenhouse yet untouchèd by the hoar
I hauled many plants, though sore.

But the nighttime, eer foreboding, now upon me came in closing,
Ere I knew it all was dark, and on the snow fell as before.
And the wind now came up blowing, further worsening the snowing,
While the temperture was lowring, so I had to get indoor,
Lest the stinging crystals biting freeze my body to the core,
So at last I went indoor.

Now the garden, it lies frozen; Im regretting I had chosen
Many plants not suited to this climate far from milder shore.
And the memry of my losses gnaws upon me, while I tosses
Fragments of the plants that froze upon the blazing heap that roars,
Yes, a bonfire to dispose of all the plants that grew before -
Now quite dead, forevermore.

*Anna's hummingbird
**The Weather Channel

Well how the heck did that happen? I only posted it once. Sorry.

No problem Ian !!

Does the same thing to me every few weeks or so.

Besides, with the opening first line, it adds an extra touch of humor.