Will these Brandywine blossoms make it to tomatohood if the weather stays hot hot hot?

Our friend Melinda writes:

“It’s been my understanding that when it’s too hot for a sustained period (including high overnight temps–like around 80), that many veggie plants drop their flowers before they fruit (e.g., tomatoes, peppers, squash, etc.). Is that true in your experience?”

Yes, but less often than you might think – or fear, given the ongoing heat wave. High night temperatures sterilize pollen and flowers that are not pollinated fall from the plant. But the window for this kind of blossom drop is comparatively narrow.

Pollen forms before the flower opens, but not that long before, and after the flower opens it must  be pollinated within a day or two (over the course of a single morning, in the case of squash), no matter what else is going on.

Maglia Rosa cherry tomatoes on the way

After the flower has been successfully pollinated the baby fruit won’t be affected. Or at least it won’t be affected by high temperatures. The drought that may accompany the heat and the fungus diseases encouraged by high humidity are another story.

Meanwhile, back at the thermometer, the thing to keep in mind is that flowers are forming more or less continually and maturing ditto, so even if one or two or three fall, more should soon appear to take their place.

Example: The Maglia Rosa cherry tomato in the picture is growing in the greenhouse, where I do not keep a thermometer because there’s nothing I can do if it gets too hot. Nevertheless, I know it must have been well over 100 in there for at least two days after the formation of the fruit on the left.

Nothing has dropped yet, and maybe nothing will ( see below) but even if the branch isn’t filled there will be tomatoes on it.

Tomatoes start suffering when nights are warmer than 75 degrees; flowers fall at around 80. Peppers – it figures – are cool up to 80 but drop if it goes over 86. Days over 95 spell trouble for everybody.

Fortunately, still being 80 when dark descends and staying at 80 all night are very different things. Individual varieties have different heat tolerances. Shade matters, during the day, for plants as well as people. Good leaf cover can save flowers that would die in direct sun.

The numbers make it sound as though you could look at the thermometer and know how hungry you’re going to be, but it’s more of a crapshoot than that, so don’t get discouraged.

Do try to be sure that what pollen there is gets transferred. Tomatoes and peppers are both self-fertile, but the pollen must still move from the male to female parts. If insects are in short supply and the air is still, gently brush/stroke/shake the flowers or use a fan to provide a light breeze.

You can also play cupid with a cotton swab, if you don’t have many plants or much else to do with yourself.

All that said, successful pollination will only get you so far. Tomatoes and peppers will rid themselves of new flowers and new fruit when deeply stressed, no matter what the cause. They’re conserving their energy so at least a little fruit will ripen and produce viable seeds. If the situation is really grim, consider removing some flowers yourself. After the weather moderates (it’s got to, or we’re all toast), plants that haven’t been struggling in vain will be stronger and better able to take up where they left off .

May 26th, 2010. Outdoor temperature on left, indoor on right. It WAS 4:30 in the afternoon, and the probe though in the shade is on the west-facing porch. But still...

It’s dry, too; the thunderstorms have missed our place, but even the people they’ve hit haven’t gotten much in the way of rain.

Midcoast Maine’s the same, in its cooler (but-not-as-cool-as-it-should-be) way, and now on the morning weather report, this:

… Air quality alert is in effect from 6 am Monday until 11 PM
Monday…
The Maine department of environmental protection has issued an
air quality action day for western Maine. This includes the
following counties…
Androscoggin… southern and Central Somerset… Cumberland…
York… Kennebec… Franklin… Oxford and Sagadahoc.
Western regions of Maine have already reached unhealthy levels of
particle pollution due to smoke from wildfires in Quebec. People
with a heart or lung disease should reduce their level of
exertion.

DEALING WITH HEAT AND DROUGHT IN THE GARDEN

* Plant in water-catching depressions, shallow basins for individual plants: tomatoes, peppers, broccoli, etc.,  trenches for row crops such as beans and greens.

* Space plants a little more closely than recommended – 10 inches apart instead of a foot, for instance. Overlapping leaves help shade the soil and the unbroken foliage mass holds humidity. (This is of course a huge negative if the weather turns cool and wet the way it did last summer. Be prepared to sacrifice plants if that happens, so air circulation can be restored.)

* It’s especially important to coddle transplants: put them in in the evening, ideally before a day that’s predicted to be overcast. Water in well, then give a drink of very weak liquid seaweed solution, about 1/4 the usual strength. Protect from the sun for several days. The protection need not be fancy or total; a generous sprinkle of straw is fine.

* Keep water near. This would be a good year to invest in a drip irrigation system, if you’ve been considering that. If not, see if there’s a way to leave a hose all set up and ready to go. Remember that the water sitting in a hose in the sun will be boiling hot; don’t turn it on the plants until the temperature goes back down.

But of course you don’t want to waste all that water, which is why there are several large buckets placed here and there: plastic garbage cans if you don’t care about looks, half whiskey barrels or gorgeous ceramic urns if appearance is important.

Plants really appreciate getting water that isn’t a hideous cold shock and it’s very handy to have the water there all ready to just dip out. Be sure the containers also contain cakes or granules of larva killing Bacillus thuringiensis, sold at garden centers and hardware stores. Mosquito Dunk is the best-known brand, so widely distributed it’s often used as a generic, but any formulation that specifically targets mosquitoes will do.

*Be even more alert than usual for pests. Water-stressed plants summon bugs, especially  leaf hoppers and aphids. If necessary, spray in the late afternoon with insecticidal soap. Avoid spraying the soap or indeed any chemical on leaves that are about to be broiled by mid day sun.

* Mulch

* Mulch

* Mulch

Photo by Bill Bakaitis

I did of course buy a few other little things, and then as usual a few more, at my annual TS day next stop, Greystone Greenhouses, on rt. 343 right outside of Sharon CT and no I can’t put in a link because they have no website. What they have – in addition to all sorts of gorgeous tropicals you didn’t know you needed but gee the prices are so reasonable –  is the tree peony of the century, in bloom early this year just like everything else.

depending on the weather, you probably have two or three more days to see this on the way in to buy your never-saw-a-pink-one before Clerodendrum thompsonii and other necessities.

Base of thumb to middle finger tip = 6.25 inches

The flowers aren’t especially large, as tree peonies go, but they have unusual substance and are actually a rich lavender (my camera has pink/blue issues).

So of course I asked what it was, only to learn it has no name. Ed Powers, who owns and runs the place with his plant-powerhouse wife, Laurel, told me it was grown from a seed.

The nursery sold it to them at a bargain price, he said, with no guarantees. But he thinks the fact that it IS a seedling, rather than a clone or graft, may account for its unusual vigor.

The Powerses planted it in 1992, and it has already been this size twice ( it took a great deal of damage in an ice storm, a few years back).

But I digress –  the thing is indeed worth a detour but Greystone is not about peonies…or conventional bedding plants, although they do sell things like marigolds and coleus.

The thing that’s great at Greystone is Laurel’s eye for the unusual: terrific fuchsias and begonias, papyrus galore, variegated brugmansias, all for prices so low they put the box stores to shame.

left: Clerodendrum thompsonii, right: clematis alpina

This is a picture of why I should have an MG or something. The clerodendrum is tropical; over a single summer in Maine it will become huge and gorgeous and then at least in theory I will either give it away or let it die. The sweet this-time-it-IS-pink species clematis, bought at Trade Secrets from Loomis Creek Gardens is hardy, and will grow larger and lovelier each year ( in the Hudson Valley) with minimal attention from me.

Ezra Pound, my latest adventure in tree peonies. There are purple flares inside but it rained hard the day Ezra opened and that was the end of that.

I have to say I’ve never had good luck with tree peonies, but that may not mean much;  in 40 years of gardening I’ve only had three of them.

The first, an unnamed white, did beautifully for about a decade, growing ever larger and ever more floriferous – until it went into a rapid decline for reason or reasons unknown.

The white tree peony in the Maine white garden, at about 5 years old

Next came a weed-buried mystery, discovered after we moved into the Hudson Valley house.

Paltry and flowerless when we found it, under Bill’s tender care it grew – slowly, in the manner of tree peonies – into a huge bush, covered each spring with silk tissue flowers 6 to 8 inches wide. Magenta, unfortunately, but you can’t have everything.

You also can’t have the tree peony, if you have to dig it up and move it in the middle of the summer so you can get at the well pipe it was planted next to.

It hung on in the new spot for a few years but never really recovered, and when we moved it again it croaked.

Insert a gap of many years, during which I got more and more interested in species peonies. But then I was ordering a bunch of new garden peonies and what the heck, here comes Ezra.

So far, same old same old. His first summer was last year – cold, dark and miserable. The plant, small to begin with, barely hung on. No new wood added. This spring, all woody stems except one five-incher were dead. Grumble.

But then, lots of healthy new growth from the roots! A good sized extension of the woody stem, with a big fat bud attached! Another bud, much lower on the stalk! And then the propane-delivery guy whacked off the extension by dragging the heavy hose over it. He saw the teepee of protective stakes and tried to avoid the plant, but somehow my cranky tree peony gods guided his subsequent movements.

Hope springs eternal however; the rest of the new growth is still in fine shape. And this weekend is super garden show Trade Secrets, in Sharon CT., a reliable source of rare peonies – if you get there early.

Garden Tour Alert: Ezra Pound was hybridized by William Gratwick lll, a major luminary of tree peony breeding. The fabulous collection he built lives on at his estate, still in family hands. The gardens are open just a few days a year, starting this very weekend: the 2010 season begins with a preview on May 15.  If you are anywhere near Rochester, New York,  it’s worth a special journey. Garden and tour information is here.

Nomenclature disclaimer: No, I have no idea why Mr. Gratwick decided to name this beautiful plant after the brilliant poet/notorious fascist sympathizer, nor have I been able to learn the answer by googling. Please write and tell us if you know.

For 4-6 servings:

Go down to the upright freezer, where “ready to eat,” items are stored. Extract:  the last qt. of Haddock, Corn and Crab Chowder with Chanterelles, 1 qt. Succotash (Black Mexican corn and Dr. Martin lima beans), 1 qt. of something labeled “Chicken and Corn stock, strong flavor, thin texture,” and 1 1/2 c. Chanterelle Cream Sauce.

Combine and heat. Decide more chanterelle is needed. Go back down to the mushroom section and get a little bag of Chanterelles in Butter. Add. Reheat. Serve topped with shredded lettuce and minced scallion.

In other words

Ladies and Gentlemen, Start your freezers!

Can you spot the morel in this picture?

Last year, itself on the early side, Bill found the first black morels on April 25th,  but this year a prime indication – the fall of the forsythia flowers – suggested a look would be worthwhile, so off we went to a reliable spot, somewhat north of us but close to the river. No luck.

Indications there were more mixed: few wild columbines were blooming and the hepatica was still spotty. We only saw one in flower

Hepatica americana (aka H. nobilis var. obtusa and, just to make things interesting, Anemone americana or A. hepatica). Very cool little plant.

But one of the great things about walks in the second and third growth woods is the vast array of cultural artifacts left from the days when the land was open. Mushrooms may be lacking, but there’s always something to see.

Even after the cellar holes have filled in and the stone walls tumbled down, each spring uncovers bits of dishes, thick old bottles and horticultural hangers-on like clumps of refined hybrid narcissi, blooming away in the underbrush surrounded by barberries and poison ivy.

No morels, no problem. I’ll just photograph these. No tripod. Down on the knees. Multiple tries in hopes of one coming out not-too-shaky. Bill is calling, “time to go.”

“ Okay, honey, just one more,” I say, and then as I switch positions to get up. There it is.

Black Morel (Morchella elata/angusticeps/conica complex). This is the same picture, cropped to a close up of the rock just to the right of the narcissus clump

Sneaky bastards. Bill has written a black morel hunting guide that helps considerably, but missing more than you find just comes with the territory.

I didn’t step on it, but that’s not because I saw it before I put my foot down.

Hepatica in its more typical color, showing why the Doctrine of Signatures declared it good for curing liver ailments.

Hepatica flower and Leslie’s foot photos by Bill Bakaitis

Then –  what else is new? –  it proceeded to back around so cold the loss seemed more likely to involve  blooming crocus and hellebores, swelling buds of narcissus and hyacinth and early peonies. I spent a lot of time running around with heaps of straw instead of attending to maple posting.

Fortunately, in the event, Friday’s predicted low of 14 did not materialize; almost everything came through ok, and it’s once again March, chilly enough to talk about syrup.

Down East Company Coleslaw – a cabbage-taming touch of maple makes all the difference

DOWN EAST COMPANY COLESLAW

would be blamelessly locavoracious  if it weren’t for the pepper(s). It would also be somewhat less interesting, albeit still tasty enough. Up to you.

The dressing and seasonings will seem scant when you first put the slaw together. Sometimes all that’s needed is some sitting time, sometimes tweaking is necessary. A lot depends on the quality of the produce.

For 6 – 8 servings. Recipe may be multiplied; it keeps for 3 or 4 days

Dressing:

2 tbl. peanut oil

½ tsp. each dry mustard, salt and pepper

1 tbl. + 1 tsp. cider vinegar

3 tbl. maple syrup

½ c. whole milk yogurt

Slaw:

7 c. thinly sliced cabbage (about half a 2 lb. head, depending on how much woody, strong core you have to discard. Or  about a quarter head each if you use 2 colors but why not quadruple the recipe and have a party?)

2 large tart apples, peeled and shredded on the coarse holes of the grater

1 small green pepper, cut in small dice, about a cup. Feel free to sub in some jalapeno

Numbered steps not necessary. Whisk the dressing together in a large bowl. Stir in the vegetables, making sure all are coated. Cover and chill for at least three or 4 hours. Stir, taste, adjust, eat.

ASSORTED MAPLE TARTLETS

Once I got going on the maple walnut pie and tart I started wondering what else – besides black walnuts, even better than the English kind – would be good with the maple base. Carrots, perhaps not too surprisingly, were great.

Maple Carrot Tartlet

Apples, perhaps surprisingly, were not. The maple got totally lost.

Nothing wrong with it, just all apple all the time, so why bother?

And wild rice was wonderful, at least in the flavor department.

Maple Wild Rice Tartlet

The rice on top got a little chewy so next time I make that I’ll use a little less rice and put a top crust on.

Important note: As that “next time”  implies,  I haven’t tested the two-crust version yet, nor do I intend to in the immediate future. I’m too fond of being able to get into my pants.

All these tarts are made the same way as the pie (link again here, for your recipe convenience ), with a layer of the fully cooked whatever on the crust, then the maple mixture poured on. This quantity of maple mixture will fill about six 4.5″  inch tarts, depending on the volume of the other ingredient(s).

Baking the tartlets takes a little less time than the big tart or pie, but not by very much. Assume a total of 35 minutes and then start checking at 3 or 4 minute intervals.

For many more recipes, check out  The ABC’s of Maple Syrup, a tour de force of linkage by Amanda Bensen, a maple mad blogger for The Smithsonian who claims it’s all because she’s from Vermont.

Modern Maple Syrup

Our house was once called “ The Maples,” and vintage pictures show a couple of majestic examples right beside the front door, but they were almost all gone by the time we came. Every tappable tree save one was (and is) down at the edge of the property behind the vegetable garden.

No matter, every year as the geese flew calling and windshield-scraping stopped being a major pain, we found new spots in the trees for the taps and tied on the well-used  plastic milk jugs to collect the sap.

Every afternoon after school, Celia would empty the jugs into pails, carefully replace the jugs, then carry the pails up to our outdoor syrup-boiler aka canning kettle on concrete blocks over wood fire. A fresh fire would be lit. After bits of ash stopped flying the kettle lid would be removed.

Eventually, boiling would take place. Not enough to make finished syrup, just enough to make room in the kettle and prevent spoilage of what was there. Then, roughly once a week, boiling would get serious. We’d all stand around worrying and stirring and then triumphantly pouring off our very own home made.

typical backyard sap-collecting device (the plastic bag lid keeps insects and debris out)

Plastic milk jugs lack the poetic beauty of galvanized pails; seeing them doesn’t remotely evoke the sled and the Clydesdales, but what they lack in loveliness they make up for in efficiency and economy, to say nothing of recycling points.

Professionals sometimes use plastic vessels too.

the professional version of bucket-style sap collection

Most of the time, though, what professional syrup makers use is a combination of plastic tubing, the force of  gravity and reverse osmosis, a mechanical sap concentration technique.

Reverse osmosis is best known as a way to desalinate water, but that which can be desalinated can also be de-mapleized, leaving behind a far sweeter liquid that takes much less boiling to be reduced to syrup. The machinery isn’t cheap, but it saves enormous quantities of labor and energy.

plastic tubes carry the sap downhill to the reverse osmosis machine in the little shed. The turquoise tank holds the concentrated result for pickup by the syrup maker.

Syrup Grades and What They Mean

The USDA Grading System is : US Grade A Light Amber, US Grade A Medium Amber, US Grade A Dark Amber, and US Grade B, but grading is voluntary and other terms, like “Fancy Grade” or “No. 1 Light” are also used. Whatever the various grades are called, light color is the gold standard : the paler the syrup, the more delicate the maple flavor and the sweeter the taste.

That’s sweet taste, not sweetness itself. Actual sugar content scarcely varies. If the syrup isn’t at least 66 percent solids (almost all of them sucrose), it will be thin and likely to spoil; if it’s over about 67.5 percent it will start to crystallize.

Dark Amber or Grade B is preferable for cooking because darker syrup has more maple flavor. It would seem that even darker would be even better, but practically speaking Grade B is as low as it goes, even though there is a much darker syrup in the lineup.

That one is Commercial grade, as far as I know a strictly wholesale product. It’s made at the end of the season when quality is starting to decline and is used in maple flavored products like cheap syrup and ice cream. More like a seasoning than a food, Commercial grade can contain off-flavors that would render it inedible if you tried to pour it on your pancakes or bake it into your pie.

Milk jug and forest-of-bucket photos by Bill Bakaitis

part of our Hudson Valley vegetable garden

In Kitchen and Garden has always been In Garden for Kitchen as much as anything else, so there’s a lot about growing vegetables tucked in among the posts about flowers and shrubs, preserves and pastries and architecture and wild mushrooms and coyotes and

where was I?

Giving pointers on food gardening, I think. Here are a few posts that may prove helpful as we teeter on the brink of the 2010 growing season:

The Seven Habits of Highly Successful Gardeners – just what it says… except of course it shouldn’t say “the,” implying as it does that there are only seven. This is just seven of the most important.

Planting a Delicious New Year, Favorite Sources for Seeds – Descriptions of and links to a few of the seed companies I buy from every year, along with a few words about heirlooms and hybrids

Tips for Success with Vegetable Seeds – or more accurately, success with vegetables like lettuce and carrots that are usually directly seeded, rather than grown from transplants.

High Return Vegetables – maximum bang for your (metaphorical; I’m not talking about money) buck when growing space, gardening time or both are limited

Concerning tomatoes: Cool Tomatoes (planting and mulching); Keeping Track of Your Tomatoes (labeling tips) ; Organic Tomatoes Triumphant (why organically grown tastes better and has more nutrients) Tomato Season Starts Now; It’s Time to Choose the Seeds – actually about making choices that (may) help avoid late blight.

Basil Time – harvesting guidance and late season care…I see where I should write something about planting the stuff; please stay tuned..

Delicious Home Grown Corn, and a Tasty Movie about the Industrial Kind – a giant love letter to Black Mexican aka Aztec Black heirloom sweet corn; why there’s no point in growing your own non-heirloom sweet corn and a friendly review of the now famous movie, King Corn.

Bill standing in the corn patch a couple of years ago. ( I think this may actually be Country Gentleman; Black Mexican plants are smaller. The purple item is Lespedeza thunbergii, in case you were wondering.)

Uh huh. Maybe someday, but if you’re anything like me your supply of well-lit warm space won’t support that many plants, even if your supply of ambition is adequate to the task.

I’m lucky; we have a small greenhouse. But finding room in it for the tomatoes, peppers, basil and other necessities that will be soon be needing light is going to be hard enough without asking the cauliflower to move over

And please don’t point out that I could install grow lights in the basement. The only possible basement spot is already full of dormant figs and brugmansias and the giant lemon verbena, to say nothing of over a dozen large garbage bags full of dahlia tubers and canna rhizomes.

the lemon verbena, pausing briefly between in ground in garden and in pot in basement

I’m mentioning this because there are so many planting timetables floating around out there, telling you exactly when to start seedlings for just about any vegetable you might conceivably want to grow.

Makes sense for the timetables; the more thorough they are the better. What doesn’t make sense is to let them intimidate you. Yet I still find myself faintly cowed.

No amount of knowing that most of this doesn’t apply to us keeps me from having twinges of guilt about how few things I start indoors. Then I get cast down over not having started soon enough. Or too soon. Or…

Here’s what: Unless you’re a market gardener or a survivalist, the only crops you absolutely must start inside from seed are the ones that meet at least two of these criteria:

1. They will not produce unless started from seedlings

2. The seedlings needed cannot be purchased from local nurseries or market gardeners

3. Whatever it is, you plan to eat so much of it that buying it from worthy farmers would cost more than you can afford.

Eliminating everything that doesn’t pass the test makes the must-do list much shorter, but there are still a few items  on it, so here’s what else: There’s no rush. Although the timetables always give starting times counting backwards from last predicted frost , frost is only a proxy for the thing that matters most.

What really counts is when you’ll be able to get the plants into the ground. Outdoor plants do not like to be indoors, even when they get everything they need,* and they usually don’t get anywhere near everything. There is often quite a while between last frost and planting out time, so it’s always better to err by starting on the late side.

Waiting is frustrating. The urge to get going is strong and young home-grown seedlings often look small compared to commercial alternatives. But small really is beautiful. Whether they’re tomatoes, peppers or exotic, long-season beans, young plants get settled and start growing more quickly than their older, often weaker kin. Spared the setbacks of transplant stress, they catch up in just a few weeks and often go on to be healthier and bear larger crops.

Full disclosure:  I do start quite a few seedlings but most of my tomatoes, peppers, cutting flowers and such are started by the invaluable Jan MacDonald, at Barlejo farm in Warren, Maine. She has been in the vanguard, but there are now more and more greenhouse growers who do custom work, and if you can find one it’s well worth the investment. Choosing exactly the varieties you want, then having them grown by a pro is pretty close to a perfect setup.

A few things I start myself, in that ever-more-crowded greenhouse:

Specialty peppers that take months to germinate

Tomatoes I decided to grow after I sent the seed packets to Jan

Items to plant in the NY garden that are only indoors a short time and make no sense to bring down from Maine – lettuces and other greens for early harvest, basils, lima beans and long beans. Plus  flowers (coming up in a post or two).

I never used to start winter squash; you only get 2 or 3 weeks’ head start and the Hudson Valley growing season is usually plenty long enough. But “growing season” is measured frost to frost, and last year was a horrid reminder that frost-free is not the same as good squash growing weather. This year I plan to hedge my bets and I might start a few cucumbers too, just for laughs.

* “everything they need” includes but is not limited to: 12 to 16 hours a day of bright light; warm temperatures during the day, slightly-less-warm temperatures at night;  different sets of temperatures for different crops ( peppers want it hotter than broccoli, for instance). Also correct quantities of water and fertilizer, plenty of air circulation… If you didn’t have respect for seeds before, the fact that they’re able to produce useable, often quite nice plants while almost all of these needs go unmet ought to make you sit up and take notice. The people who call them miraculous are not exaggerating.

After the 1st and 2nd snowfalls, before the 3rd and 4th. That’s a 12 foot ladder

Up until a bit more than a week ago, I was in a pro-snow mood. Seemed like everyone else in the Eastern half of the country was having piles and piles of white beauty, while we had ugly patches of bare brown ground and nothing to ski on.

Be careful what you wish for.

When all is finally revealed, this viburnum will be about half as tall as it used to be. Those three broken leaders were due for pruning but I’d have preferred to choose where to cut without quite so much help.

For almost a week, day temperatures hovered near freezing, nights went down to 20 or so. It snowed and snowed, then it rained for a while and then it snowed again until I swear the stuff must’ve weighed about a pound per cubic inch.

Clearing the parking area wasn’t just  a Sisyphean enterprise, it was also, eventually, a mighty long walk. By the 3^rd go-round the blacktop was ringed with 5 foot piles of snow, and because I couldn’t lift a shovelful much higher than 3 feet, I had to drag each and every one to the only edge low enough to throw it over.

The area in question is about 50 by 75 feet. The low spot was on a short side. You may do the math yourself; I don’t care to think about it.

I don’t care to think about what I’m going to find when all’s said and done, either. The big triple-trunked arborvitae in the corner of the east yard is now a single, and one of the single’s major branches is ripped beyond repair.

Two trunks down; the other one will probably have to go, purely on aesthetic grounds.

We lost  arborvitae trunks one and two in the second snowfall, so I went out in snowfall #3 and tried to knock as much snow as I could from the survivor and from our precious privacy hedge, which at least at this writing appears to have come through ok.

That’s me gently knocking snow upwards with an extension pole pruner, fully extended to about 10 feet. Invaluable tool.

Note: I have exaggerated for the sake of eloquent complaining. Truth is Bill did more than half of the blacktop clearing – that’s where the 5 foot piles came from.