I must say that a container of these lovely narcissus blooming in the deepest darkest days of winter are a joy. I have a clear glass hurricane lantern with white beach rocks in the bottom (ballast), put the bulbs on top of the rocks, fill to the bottom of the bulbs with water and wait about three weeks for blooms. Works every time. Excellent.

Last year I tried keeping the newly "planted" bulbs in the refrigerator until they showed a good two inches of growth. I had read that the cold would prevent them from becoming floppy. I also gave them a shot of vodka for the same reason. They were floppy anyway.

The best I have come up with is to aim the bulbs into each other, toward the center of the vase. That way, as the leaves emerge, they have each other for support. Go for a tall container (the hurricane is about 16 inches tall) and you will eliminate the need to contrive a support system. Make the container clear so you can see the action of the bulbs rooting. If nothing else, the vodka keeps the water clear.

The odor of these narcissus leaves something to be desired. I keep five bulbs going in succession throughout the winter and at some point even I have to give up because the smell becomes obnoxious. If you don't like it, there is no getting used to it.

Forcing other bulbs is an art and a science. A hobby. There is a ton of how-to information out there so get reading.

The containers of bulbs that catch my eye are full of all kinds of bulbs blooming at once. I covet one of these and someday, I will attempt to make it work for me. I can either layer the bulbs on top of each other in their order of bloom time. Or I could start them in flats individually and transplant them to their final destination. Different bulbs need different lengths of time to chill after they are planted and therein lies the challenge. And space in the refrigerator.

For now I stick with the paper whites - just plant and watch them bloom. Somewhat trouble free.

But if you are going to do any of this you need to get going now.

That goes for the bulbs that you plan on planting outside for spring blooms. With this lingering fall you have time to get them into the ground. Not after it freezes. Now.

The Brussels sprouts are harvested. We had a couple of mornings of good frosts and that is enough for me to make the harvest. I do not want them to be garden decorations this winter, they need to be in my freezer.

I think Brussels sprouts could be another cash crop for Homer market gardeners. I used a folding saw to cut the stalks at the ground, pulled off the few remaining leaves at the very top and filled a laundry basket with eight stalks in a matter of minutes. Sell the whole stalk for however many dollars. Leave it to the consumer to take the sprouts off the stalks.

Cash crops: garlic, shallots, leeks, artichokes and now Brussels sprouts. There you go.

Now that this garden is established, more or less, the fall foliage really came into play. The variety of color is gratifying. Even the roses are gorgeous. But I don't understand Amur maples. The ones along Pioneer Avenue are lovely, but mine are just sort of brown, no flaming red for me.

The Amur chokecherry is another matter. Fabulous gold leaves and they have already dropped which indicates that it is ready for winter; no surprising this tree, it's ready. Same goes for the Shubert chokecherry. I love these trees. They grow fast, are the perfect size for a small lot - 20-30 feet tall and 18-25 feet wide. Excellent. The birds love them.

I think this is the greatest achievement at this house - planting trees. The investment is nominal and the rewards huge. These two trees have been here 10 years, along with several mountain ash, and it looks like a little forest on the east side of the house. There are shrubs planted under the trees and, slowly, the whole planting is filling in. I would like to tuck in some native high bush cranberries. The birds found us several years ago and the place just hums with their activity. When the mountain ash berries are ripe the Bohemian waxwings sweep through, gorging. It is truly a sight to behold.

I do not see enough trees or lilacs or roses around this town. What I do see are houses, not homes, that look the same as they did when they were first constructed - barren. Sprung from the earth. Dropped from the sky?

A wonderment.

Take the next couple of months to give that some thought.

Rosemary Fitzpatrick has been gardening with gusto in Homer for 30 years. This is her last column until the new year.