Tag Archives: Icepocalypse 2013

What I Did On My Winter Vacation

Cthulhufruit

And out of the depths of winter comes the promise of spring. After months of cold and chill, Earth progresses in its orbit around the sun, with daffodils and quince blooming in anticipation. Two weeks short of the official vernal equinox, life and weather celebrate the change…with six inches of snow. Welcome to Dallas.

While it might be reasonable to assume that the Triffid Ranch shut down entirely over the last four months, I compare it more to hibernation. The plants were sleeping, the garden dormant, and available shows and events dropping to next to nothing, so the last four months involved a very extensive and thorough cleaning and reorganizing. When your best friend refers to the purges of unneeded books, magazines, fabric, and other items from the house as “Stalinesque”, and when you consider that this is a man who stretches the term “minimalist” until it screams, you get an idea of the effort involved. All of December, all of January, almost all of February: the house is better organized than any time since we moved into it five years ago. Some of the particulars:

  • Okay, so having Colorado as a relative neighboring state leads to lots of Beavis and Butt-Head chuckling about “grow houses” these days, but technology allowed a big expansion. Namely, the whole need for a separate office for computer work died off with CRT monitors and landline phones, so the Czarina and I made a command decision: why waste two perfectly good rooms on our separate offices when we were doing all of our correspondence and show organizing on laptops anyway. The whole of an 11-day holiday vacation went into stripping out both rooms, converting one into work area and dry goods storage, and the other into an interior propagation area for tropical carnivores, orchids, ferns, and other flora that couldn’t handle the temperatures in the greenhouse. Technology also assisted with the propagation racks: LED shop lights may cost a little more than standard fluorescent fixtures, but they work beautifully for sundews, bladderworts, and the one Tahitian vanilla orchid that survived last summer. We’re not quite ready for a full-time retail venue, but it’s getting a lot closer, and the increased production means being able to do more shows in 2015. Best of all, the LEDs mean more light and less heat for less power, and the plan is to move to high-output LED fixtures before the end of the year for more light-hungry plant species.
  • While it’s been quiet out here otherwise in preparation for Texas Frightmare Weekend in May, it’s not that quiet. The Triffid Ranch leaves its hiatus for an appearance at the Discovery Days Earth event at the Perot Museum in downtown Dallas this coming April 11. Considering that we have a bit of a track record for late snow and sleetfall in March over the last half-decade, any last-minute freezes should help keep emerging temperate carnivores chilled so they start blooming in April. If things work well, this means showing off both Sarracenia pitcher plant and triggerplant blooms in time for the event. Details will follow.
  • Speaking of Texas Frightmare Weekend, the year-long hiatus means lots of preparation for the tenth annual Frightmare show, and not just with plants. This year’s Frightmare spread includes new displays, new items, and a lot of larger plant arrangements that were just too big to justify bringing out to previous events. All told, the plans required getting an additional table to hold everything, and we have live video from the house upon getting the news that a second table was available:
  • And after that? If we don’t get completely snowbound, the fun continues. Due to both Day Job schedule conflicts and various issues outside of the scope of this posting, three-day convention events aren’t going to be practical for most of 2015, but that means lots of one-day shows and lectures. Keep an eye open for details on these as well.
  • Some of the conflict on show schedules involves other factors, including several big secret projects over the next nine months. In addition, influenced by Reptiles magazine republishing my 2011 article on carnivores in reptile enclosures, expect not quite a book, but something almost as good, by the end of the year. Either way, I’ll be stuck to the couch, frantically writing away, when I’m not tinkering in the greenhouse.

Oh, and about the beautiful photo from the top of the post? One of the few good things that came from 2013’s Icepocalypse was a deeper understanding of citrus trees, especially my beloved Buddha’s Hand citron. After a decade of attempts to stave off bloom and fruit drop, December 2014 gave up three full-sized and completely ripe Cthulhufruit, and the greenhouse is currently full of blooms for this year’s crop. The trick, which hasn’t shown up in any citrus guide I’ve encountered in the last ten years, is that Buddha’s Hands require much more humidity than most citrus trees. Mexican limes and Meyer lemons thrive in Dallas levels of low humidity in spring and summer, but Cthulhufruit requires humidity that only rarely goes below 60 percent. Once I understood that, well, that promise of homemade Cthulhufruit bars becomes more plausible every winter, and maybe even in time for Cephalopodmas. And so it goes.

“And so I face the final curtain…”

Serious news, starting with a joke. Depending upon the artistic venue, the word “hiatus” has different meanings, most of which are unofficial and many are insulting. For instance, officially, “hiatus” refers to a period of diminished or stopped activity, as in “the business is going on hiatus until economic conditions improve.” In the comics business, as my friend Mischa Jones likes to put it, “hiatus” means “I’m tired of doing this, but I don’t want to quit just yet.” In publishing, particularly with small-press magazine and book publishing, “hiatus” means “we’re overextended and in debt up to our eyeballs, and we’re taking a break in the hopes that our creditors will forget about us.” Depending upon the business, “hiatus” is a remarkably versatile word.

Anyway, as of next year, the Texas Triffid Ranch goes on hiatus. In the first definition, with caveats and a cherry on top.

Icicle

The finale, of course, was last week’s Icepocalypse 2013, which was a lot stronger than anybody expected. Even with a new greenhouse, with about two tons of water as thermal mass, and with lots of contingencies to fend off the cold, everything went to hell all at once. The five-hour power outage on the first day wouldn’t have been so much of an issue, if one of the panels on the main greenhouse hadn’t blown out from the wind and the ice through that whole period. Sub-freezing temperatures for hours, combined with greenhouse repair tape that absolutely refused to adhere in the cold, and the damage was fairly intense. The worst part is that the real extent of the damage can’t be ascertained until spring, because a whole line of Capsicum pepper bonsai prepared for next year’s shows won’t show the worst of the frost damage until and unless they bud. Until then, it’s a long wait.

Icicle

Problem is, this was just the finale to a kidney stone of a year. With two exceptions, most of the Triffid Ranch shows in 2013 didn’t turn out anywhere near as well as necessary to turn a profit. At this point, with most companies announcing a hiatus, right here’s the point where the owner writes a self-serving, passive-aggressive tirade about how “if customers really supported us, we could stay in business.” If I wrote that, it would be an absolute lie. I watched regular customers and new ones come by, look over plants and arrangements, and sadly walk away, because they simply couldn’t afford to buy anything. I couldn’t blame them in the slightest, because we’re all being hit by the ongoing Great Recession. Increasing the number of shows on the schedule doesn’t increase the income from the shows, because the costs of getting to the shows, setting up, spending two to four days on point, and then breaking down and going home haven’t changed. While teaching new carnivorous plant enthusiasts was an absolute joy, the teaching wasn’t paying the rest of the cost, and the only option was to shut down for a while

To their eternal credit. several friends offered to start up a Kickstarter campaign to replace the plants lost in the freeze, but this would only prolong the issue. For individual events and one-shot projects, Kickstarter, IndieGoGo, and other crowdsource funding systems are great, but a successful Kickstarter campaign doesn’t fix current economic trends, and it definitely doesn’t fix a lack of customers with disposable income. Tempting as it may be to take these friends up on their incredible generosity, I was just reminded of the number of independent bookstores all running Kickstarter projects, with no thought as to what happens when the current money runs out and the underlying reasons for the downturn continue.

Another factor to consider with a one-person operation such as the Triffid Ranch is further learning and expansion. A lot of outstanding projects intended to be completed over the last five years have had to sit on the sidelines, between commitments for shows and commitments to the day job that pays for everything. This includes further experimentation with triggerplant cultivation, more elaborate plant enclosures, and testing new fabrication techniques. This is in addition to working with new species of carnivorous plant, getting further expertise with plants generally considered too difficult for beginners or the moderately knowledgeable. All of this requires time, and much of that time was spent both doing shows and preparing for shows.

Icicle

So here’s the plan. The blog stays up, with lots of new updates. The Web site stays up, and undergoes a long-delayed update. I’ll still be open for lectures and events, especially kids’ events, and consultations on school science projects. Two previously scheduled shows, All-Con in March and Texas Frightmare Weekend in May, are still on, but then nothing for a year. May 2015, if everything works well, everything starts back up, with a new focus and a new initiative. At that time, with luck, the economy will have recovered to the point where the business side of the Triffid Ranch can be self-sustaining. That’s the plan, anyway.

As always, I can’t thank prior customers and supporters highly enough, and I’m looking forward to taking care of all of you before the shutdown next May. In the meantime, take care of yourselves.

Icepocalypse 2013 – Ice Plates

Ice Plates

Now here’s a bit of holiday fun, brought to us by last week’s Icepocalypse. It’s a remarkably simple recipe: first, coat the whole area with a thick layer of ice, to the point where the normally sproingy trees in North Texas touch the ground. Spread more ice along the sidewalk underneath the trees, and freeze solid. In the morning, let natural ground heat melt the sidewalk ice, and sunlight and wind ablation remove the ice from the trees. After a few hours, the branches rise, taking the ice with it and making ice plates. Light at night with standard Christmas lights and serve before normal Texas temperatures return.

Ice Plates

Ice Plates

Ice Plates

Ice Plates

Ice Plates

Iced Sarracenia – 4

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia – 3

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia – 2

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia – 1

Iced Sarracenia

Nearly a week after Icepocalypse 2013 started up, the snow and ice are finally leaving, and with them, touches of beauty. The cold guaranteed that the Triffid Ranch’s collection of Sarracenia pitcher plants went into a full winter dormancy this season, as opposed to Dallas’s “Winter Without A Winter” 12 months ago. In addition, the ice came down hard and just liquid enough that it froze on available surfaces as clear as epoxy, leading to beautiful views in the early morning night. I don’t want to go through this again any time soon, but at least some good came out of the extended freeze.

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia

Iced Sarracenia

Icepocalypso

Shrub Icepocalypse

For most intents and purposes, the ongoing horror of Texas Icepocalypse 2013 ended this afternoon. Temperatures are well above freezing, meaning that only those spots shaded from the sun still have any appreciable accumulations of sleet and snow, and all of it should be gone by the end of the day Thursday. One more day of subfreezing temperatures at night, and then we go back to the usual Texas December ritual of donning jackets in the morning and stripping them off by midday. At least, that’s what the National Weather Service keeps telling everyone, so I’m waiting for the rains of blood, fire, and maggots on Saturday. What else could keep me from spending a productive day cleaning up the ice storm’s messes?

Rose Icepocalypse

Oh, and it’s a mess. As explained before, most native trees, and most of the introduced varieties recommended and sold by garden centers and nurseries, aren’t much for sustained heavy frozen precipitation. The general good news is that most of these are selected for their ability to withstand our ceaseless summer winds, so many just dip and point like ballerinas when rimed over. Small bushes take a lot more of a beating if they can’t shed their leaves fast enough. Most people in the area, myself included, don’t necessarily go nuts over pruning back their roses, as they usually don’t have to deal with sustained weight on their stems. That hubris flattened this tea rose, and the only reason my other prominent rose survived is because the crape myrtle growing over it sheltered it from the absolute worst of the storm. Both will come back, but it taught me a valuable lesson in why tying up one’s roses actually makes sense. And here I thought everything I heard about growing roses in Dallas from long-timers was unnecessary work.

Crape Myrtle Icepocalypse

Most of the softer-wood hardwoods came out well, although it was scary for a while. Crape myrtles, for instance, flex quite a bit under rain and wind, but they literally rebound right away from those. In fact, they tend to be so flexible that pruning them back can be a chore. (Several years back, I met a gentleman who makes walking sticks made from large crape myrtle branches, and he said his only issue was with how the branches tended to split while drying. He told me “put fresh Elmer’s glue on the cut end, as soon as you cut it, and let it dry. It’ll prevent the wood from splitting as it dries, and it’ll also retain its flexibility.”) Four days of heavy ice holding the branch tips to the ground didn’t seem to affect this one at all, and it bounced back as soon as things started to thaw.

Not all selections for Texas landscaping have quite that versatility. I’m already extremely glad that the two silverleaf maples in my back yard came down last year, because if they survived the summer, they definitely wouldn’t have survived this. Others in the area weren’t as lucky, and I suspect that a lot of silverleafs planted in the area back in the 1970s are now only good as firewood. I also saw a lot of damage to the current flora du jour, the ornamental Bradford pear tree. I don’t understand the appeal of the ornamental pears, although I understand why so many homeowners want a tree that doesn’t drop tremendous amounts of pulpy fruit all over the place. They require regular spraying to fight fire blight, they do nothing for bird habitat or general shade, and the brittle wood already shakes itself to pieces in a good storm. With this mess, well, I saw a couple that looked as if someone put a bomb in the center and set it off.

Oak Icepocalypse

That problem also applied to many of our indigenous oaks and other trees. North Texas trees both tend to hang onto their leaves all winter and produce a thick cuticle on the leaves to protect against dessication. That’s great for trees able to take advantage of winter sun, and they’re usually shed in early spring as new growth starts up. That protective cuticle makes a great adhesion surface for ice, though, and it builds up fast. This tree literally tore itself apart from the stresses: rain and wind it was prepared for, but this much ice? Nope: it’s coming down, one way or another.

Icepocalypse now, walls of flame, billowing smoke, who’s to blame?

Icepocalypse Now

The hype started up early last Tuesday. We were in for snow, ice, asteroid strikes, blazing angels, Wal-Mart gift cards…the local meteorologists were whooping it up about this was going to be a storm for the records. By Wednesday, we all knew that something was up when we hit near-record high temperatures that afternoon and everyone started pulling out swimsuits. That didn’t keep everyone from laughing at the National Weather Service. “Oh, they say that all the time. They always predict a worse storm than what we actually get. Just watch: we’ll get a little bit of rain, and that’s it.”

Oh, we of little faith. The snowmageddon started sliding in from the northwest on Thursday afternoon, and it just kept getting worse. And worse. I have an incredible ability to wake up about thirty seconds before a power outage, and so I woke up about five minutes before the alarm clock went off, wondering “Why am I conscious right now?” when everything went dead for the next five hours. When the exemplary crews at Garland Power & Light weren’t able to get power reestablished right away, that’s when we knew this was going to be bad.

And to stop the immediate comparisons to your local weather and how “this isn’t so bad,” that’s true. Kinda. This was definitely the worst ice storm I’ve seen in Texas in the 34 years since I first moved here, exceeding the big storms of 1983, 1996, and 2011. We almost never get ice storms, much less ones of this intensity, and this one compared favorably to ones I experienced in Michigan when I was a kid. In Michigan, everyone has snow tires, heavy-duty ice scrapers and snow brushes, and other regular accessories for a typical winter up there. We don’t have snowplows, salt trucks, and tire chains because they might be used once every ten years or so. Hence, we’re caught flatfooted nearly every time. And this one? Nobody was prepared for this mess, because we simply don’t see storms like this.

Fields of ice

On a personal level, the storm and the power outage tag-teamed me. First, specialized greenhouse tape specifically purchased so it wouldn’t go brittle in the cold went brittle in the cold, and the north wind blew out a panel on the main greenhouse. Combine that with the outage cutting heat at a critical time, and all of the thermal mass I put in last October didn’t make up for the sub-freezing drafts. I’ll have to wait until things warm up, but it looks like at least a two-thirds loss of everything inside, including a new line of bonsai Capsicum peppers intended to be premiered at the next show. It may be possible to salvage, but that has to wait until temperatures rise again and I can perform a decent evaluation.

On the bright side, at least the Czarina and I weren’t insane enough to be vendors at the scheduled Fair Park Holiday show in downtown Dallas. That one was shut down early, but probably more a matter of a lack of vendors than the worries about weather. But about that later.

I’m also not complaining more, because the damage here was a lot less than that right around the area. Most of North Texas’s trees are various oaks, which generally don’t shed their leaves until spring, which meant they made wonderful nucleation sites for the incoming ice. They’re also not adapted to dealing with large amounts of ice, either, so local trees’ branches aren’t adapted to shedding or carrying huge amounts of snow or ice weight. With more flexible trees, such as crape myrtles and mesquite, they obligingly flattened to the ground and waited it out. The same thing with small oaks, such as the three-meter-tall oak that obligingly impersonated Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree when saturated with ice. Larger trees, though, and saplings from more brittle species just snapped. Expect photos shortly of the mess preventing my neighbor from being able to open his garage door for the two tons of shattered oak blocking his driveway.

Triffid Ranch Charlie Brown Christmas tree

And the temperate carnivorous plants put out for winter dormancy? That’s going to have to wait until spring. The layers of ice definitely killed off any still-living traps and phyllodia that the plants could use for photosynthesis, but most are used to worse conditions than this. The Sarracenia purpurea, for instance, should be right at home. In the meantime, while the ice lasts, I get views like this:

Iced-up Sarracenia

And one little bit of good? I’ve spent the last four years attempting to get results with growing the South African proto-carnivorous plant Roridula in Texas. One of the hardest problems is getting the seeds to germinate, and I tried everything. Scarifying the seed coat to encourage germination. Putting the potting mix in a smoker and smoking it heavily before adding seeds. Chilling the seeds before planting them. No results, and looking over the wreckage in the greenhouse made me think about just pitching them and giving up. Wouldn’t you just know that this sort of chill was exactly what Roridula dentata needed to get up and going? Now just to keep the seedlings going, as apparently decent air circulation is essential, and I don’t dare risk bringing them inside if they’re this happy just to lose them to fungus infections. And so it goes.