Should I need some last minute frost protection, I'm dreaming of rows and rows of fancy cloches to act as mini-greenhouses. Cloches are fairly easy to come by and certainly an
easy way to add a bit of pretty (oooo, shiny!) to your garden, but they can be
prohibitively expensive. Plus, who has the safely-tucked-away storage
space for so much glass when there are dogs, cats, chickens and a
curious and crawling baby around?
The reality is that I don't have hundreds of dollars or the space, but if I did (daydream with me here, folks) I'd pick up a few Roost domes (a), Victorian replica cloches like they use in Colonial Williamsburg (as captured by Duo de Hale) (b), or some of Fabrica's and Secondme's collaborative updated takes (c), though I'm not sure I could actually put them outside.
I've only got 30 or so seeds to protect, what's a small fortune in glass when my food is at risk? Oh yeah, I just sent my small fortune to the tax man. Hmf.
Another option is terra cotta, which, by simply being opaque, can be used to trick rhubarb into an extra sweet early entrance to spring. Jo-h captured one in situ (d); Martha's favorite, Guy Wolff, makes one that would naturally fit into any garden with its beautiful patinad finish (e);and GRDN in Brooklyn has a classic, simple option (f).
Inch By Inch and Fun in the Making both took an eye-pleasing approach (g) while on recycling duty, while another more affordable option is to go old-school and find some vintage versions on etsy (these are from Little Byrd Vintage) or antique ones at the flea market (h).
Bursting my own glass cloche-encased bubble, I know I need too many to realistically cover my plants with the shiny (oooo) new versions, but after seeing Camille Soulayrol's vignette (thank you Decor8!) of all things glass flipped upside down, I'm thinking that's a pretty good option. I, too, can take it from the magpie and have some loverly brilliance in my garden while keeping my seeds out of frosty's mean mittens.
Renee Garner has a passion to make things grow, although her brownish
thumb wants her to believe otherwise. When mud pies aren't on the menu,
you can find her doodling the days away at Wolfie and the Sneak.
