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Wild Orchid chef takes over Sam’s kitchen

It’s a new year. With the flip of a calendar comes a chance to renew, refresh and remodel.
    In Annapolis, the new year offers opportunity for two local restaurateurs to help each other.
    Andrew Parks, owner of Sam’s on the Waterfront, has announced his new executive chef, Jim Wilder. Chef Wilder recently closed his Westgate Circle restaurant Wild Orchid after a difficult three-year tenure.
    Timing is everything, so hopes Parks, who has struggled to consistently employ an executive chef in the eight years he has owned the waterfront restaurant built in 1986 by his grandfather, the original Sam.
    Each man endeavors to bring the best of his farm-to-table vision in this new marriage of culinary talents. Each restaurant has — or has had — the green restaurant certification.
    At Sam’s, Parks takes the front-of-house role with Wilder running the kitchen.
    In the past, Wilder has worked both ends of the operation, with 13 years at the helm of his highly regarded Eastport Wild Orchid his pinnacle, to the head-scratching move to the behemoth at the Severn Bank Building — a move that would be his undoing.
    Few understood Wilder’s decision to sell the warm and comfortable 40-seat Eastport café in 2010 and move to the 250-seat former Greystone Grill on the other side of town.
    That decision “was not based on sound business models. I had to keep my mind occupied,” Wilder said, after the untimely death of his and wife Karen’s son, Andrew Wall, from brain cancer in 2009. “It was the bottom. And I deal with depression by keeping busy. Depression drove me.”
    Building a dream kitchen provided a needed distraction from grief. It also afforded access and opportunity to expand Wilder’s Company’s Coming catering business, along with a large floor plan that offered him ideal accessibility for his wheelchair.
    The dream was not meant to be. The restaurant closed in July 2013.
    Parks has his own challenges keeping Sam’s profitable and relevant. Hidden within the gated Chesapeake Harbour Marina community, the restaurant is difficult to find. Warm weather brings boaters out and swells the population of Chesapeake Harbour, where many residents are summer only. Still, Parks estimates that 80 percent of his business comes from outside the community. Getting diners in the door is an ongoing pursuit. Parks hopes hiring a well-known chef will do the trick.
    Chef Wilder brings his most popular dishes to the menu. Butternut squash soup with crab, scallops Napoleon and pork tenderloin wrapped in bacon join Sam’s favorites: lobster mac ’n’ cheese, rockfish and Kobe burgers (half-price on Tuesday).
    The transition has been subtle thus far, though Parks is enthusiastic about a new winter menu and many collaborative surprises to come.

Got a tasty tip for a future’s Dish? Email Lisa Knoll at thedish@bayweekly.com.

Grunge, hip-hop and Gen Y angst color this whimsical romance where mortals meet magic

The Annapolis Shakespeare Company has shaken up the Bard to magical effect with a 1990s’ setting of A Midsummer Night’s Dream that is da bomb! Grunge, hip hop and Gen Y angst color this whimsical story of romance, mischief and enchantment in Fairyland, where mortals meet magic and are none the wiser for it.
    Guest director Kristin Clippard, formerly of the San Francisco Shakespeare Festival, has created a magical forest cloaked in fog and sparkling with frost under a pregnant moon. The walls are like birch bark strewn with carnations under a canopy of red, white and orange umbrellas backlit with twinkling lights. As the umbrella covers us in all types of weather, she explains, love can cover all our woes. And there is plenty of woe to go around.
    It should be a happy time; Duke Theseus (Stephen Horst) is marrying Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons (Laurent Turchin). Guests have come from far and wide for the nuptials. There is Egeus (Nick Pinto) and his daughter Hermia (Amanda Forstrom), her friend Helena (Ashlyn Thompson) and Hermia’s two suitors: her beloved Lysander (Joel DeCandio) and preppy nerd Demetrius (Ben Lauer), who spurned Helena to pursue Hermia — this at her father’s behest.
    Lysander and Hermia are emo soul mates destined for turbulence in the parallel universe of Fairyland. Queen Titania (Turchin) has turned frosty toward King Oberon (Horst). Thus the king dispatches his meddling assistant Puck (DePinto) to enchant Titania with a love-at-first-sight potion. Embarrassment is the point, as the queen is expected to fall in love with a creature of the forest. She does: Bottom (France Vince) is a mortal endowed by Puck with a donkey’s head and tail. Watching this odd love unfold are the queen’s attendants: First Fairy (Valeka Holt), Peaseblossom (Gray West), Mustardseed (Samantha Nelson), Cobweb (Nicole Mullins-Teasley) and Moth (Miranda Savage).
    Meanwhile, the same potion causes both Lysander and Demetrius to pursue Helena, leaving Hermia in forlorn confusion.  
    Bottom is a member of an amateur theatrical troupe of tradesmen come to perform the tragedy of Pyramus and Thisbe for the royal wedding. This childish play-within-a-play features Piper Quince (Holt), Francis Flute (West), Tina Snout (Nelson), Snug (Mullins-Teasley) and Robin Starvling (Savage). With West in drag as Thisbe, it makes a hilarious finale to madcap shenanigans in the forest.
    This show is rife with potential for confusion both of Shakespeare’s making and this production’s double and triple casting. Yet it’s easy to follow, swinging with ease from extremes of tenderness to slapstick. Diction and gestures, so important to a modern understanding of Shakespeare, are crisp and clear. It’s energetic and creative with dancers of all shapes and ages doing cartwheels and back flips, and Puck literally climbing the walls.
    Music figures large with ’90s hits such as “Kiss Me” and the theme from Titanic alongside the traditional “Holly and the Ivy.” Fairy costumes are mostly neon and shredded denim, a grunge look that is vivid, if not magical, with odd makeup that is likewise jarring. Is that the Mario Brothers I see among the tradesmen’s denims and flannels? Whatever. It’s a hoot.
    There are no weak performers among this cast.
    DePinto shines for his remarkable versatility not only acting but also singing and playing guitar in a delightful duet with Holt, a fine dancer and singer. Horst brings a welcome vulnerability to both his royal roles, and Turchin her trademark frostiness. Forstrom and DeCandio exude a passionate infatuation that contrasts well to Thompson and Lauer’s more comic roles. Vince’s donkey is a perfectly lovable ass. And Nelson as a brick wall that raps Shakespearean couplets milks a gallon of laughs from a pint of dialogue.
    This Dream is two and a half hours of escapist frivolity that will win converts to Shakespeare. Alas, the senior set is likely to miss the cultural references that make this production unique.

Direction and Set: Kristin Clippard. Choreography and Lights: Sally Boyett. Costumes: Kristin Clippard and Maggie Cason. With Audrey Bertaux as Standby.
Playing thru Dec. 22, Th-F 8pm; Sa 2 and 8pm; Su 3pm at the Bowie Playhouse, White Marh Park. $24 w/discounts; rsvp: 410-415-3513; www.annapolisshakespeare.org.

Everybody gets into the spirit

Mayhem meets knee-slapping ­comedy when the Herdmans collide head-on with the Christmas story.
    Barbara Robinson’s Christmas alternative — it’s no Christmas Carol — is a good choice for Twin Beach Players: Both have to do with a small town where everybody has a part to play in making Christmas.
    The fictional small town’s kids have grown weary of wearing bed sheets to play the same role and speak the same lines year after year in the annual church pageant. Boredom yields to horror when the Herdmans come to town.
    The dirty half-dozen Herdman kids bully their way into the cast and hijack the pageant. With no idea what’s going on — they don’t even know the Christmas story — they make up a script as they go along.
    As we watch, the pageant turns into a huge, hysterical mess.
    Forty-six of the town of North Beach’s real-life children, from preschoolers to teens, are inspired, whether as angels, shepherds or Herdmans — who’ve stolen the key parts of Mary, Joseph, Herod and the Wise Men.
    In this community of theater, parents leave the audience to take the stage alongside their kids. Ten adults stay on-stage, enjoying their roles as avidly as the kids do.
    The audience is enchanted, moved from tears to side-splitting laughter in no longer than it takes to blink.
    The theater — normally a Boys and Girls Club gym — is decorated for the holidays. The young cast’s singing of classic carols — including “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” “Away in a Manger,” “We Three Kings” and “Silent Night” — open our hearts. Recorded Christmas music continues during the short intermission.

Playing F & Sa 7pm, Su 3pm thru Dec. 15 at the North Beach Boys and Girls Club. $12 w/discounts: 410-286-1890; www.twinbeachplayers.com.

No need to put out the welcome mat

The mouse stood high in ancient Greece, where the god Apollo took the creature as one of his namesakes, Apollo Smintheus. White mice were kept under the altars in temples to that incarnation.
    Most of us can better relate to the Indo-Aryan Sanskrit tradition wherein musuka means thief or robber.
    Sanskrit may not be familiar to you, but the burglary antics of the common house mouse probably are, especially this time of year.
    Freezing temperatures, like our recent dip into the low teens, send these furry rodents scurrying inside to the warmth of our homes and offices.
    If you have mice, you’re not alone. Each winter, mice and other rodents invade an estimated 21 million homes in the U.S. Mice visit between October and February, looking for food, water and shelter from the cold. Mice build their homes in our homes, near food sources, like our pantries and cupboards.
    Prolific and voracious, they eat more than growing teenagers and breed faster than rabbits. They eat up to 20 times per day and breed year-round, starting at about two months old.
    With a gestation of less than three weeks, a litter of eight to 14 pups and an average of five to 10 litters a year, a single female mouse will give birth to about 120 babies each year.
    That’s a lot of mice. Let two in, and many more will follow.
    Like little Houdinis, mice can squeeze through openings as small as a dime. A small crack or gap on the exterior of your home is an open door — and invitation — for mice.
    Prevent mice from gaining access into your home by sealing any openings on the exterior (such as where utility pipes enter) with a silicone caulk. You can also fill gaps and holes inside your home with steel wool.
    Keeping cats as pets helps, too. Since I rescued my two kitties three years ago, I haven’t seen a single mouse inside.
    Mice are cute and cuddly to some folks who may even keep them as pets, but they can transmit a disease called salmonellosis, a bacterial food poisoning that occurs when food is contaminated with infected mice feces.
    That’s just the beginning. Mice can carry as many as 200 human pathogens.
    No wonder Apollo Smintheus was a god of disease.

A princess movie for people sick of princess movies

Princess Elsa (Idina Menzel: Glee) was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and a chill in her will. Creating ice and snow is a great power for a young girl, and she gleefully turns the palace into a winter wonderland for her little sister Anna (Kristen Bell: The Lifeguard). They skate in the grand ballroom, build snowmen by the suits of armor and frolic in snowdrifts under priceless paintings.
    But a careless slip of hand has a painful consequence for Anna. Worried for their youngest daughter and terrified by their eldest, the king and queen isolate them from the world. The gates are closed, staff reduced to a skeleton crew and Elsa locked in her room. Anna roams empty halls alone.
    Someone call child protective services for these poor kids.
    Sailing on a diplomatic voyage, king, queen and ship are sunk by a storm. Promoted from frost demon to queen, Elsa is nervous while Anna is delighted that her sister’s coronation will mean a party and a party means people.
    The sisters prepare for their big day with different goals. Elsa hopes to conceal her frost-curse long enough to take the crown and seal up the palace. Anna is praying to find a husband at the ball, before the palace doors again close her in.
    In a state of nerves, Elsa causes an icy surprise at the coronation ball. As she flees to the mountains, her distress sends the kingdom into a blustery winter. Can Anna find her sister and love in a thawed kingdom? Will Elsa ever learn to control her powers?
    For years, Disney has been at the forefront of Princess-Culture, an insidious movement that’s convinced young girls that finding a true love and a matching ball gown are the most important things in life. While princes and pretty dresses are both lovely in theory, the marketing team that promotes them is creating increasingly vapid entertainment to steal the minds of impressionable little girls.
    Frozen is a great remedy for Princess Culture. Yes, there are princesses, and even a love story, but the focus is the sisters’ relationship. One learns to embrace her power instead of fear it; the other learns that she can be the hero of her own story. It’s a heartening message from the company that taught legions of women that one day their prince will come.
    As the sisters, Menzel and Bell prove that they have a knack for voice work. Menzel’s Tony-winning voice soars in the soundtrack, which features several great tracks.
    Bell infuses her Anna with enough pluck to make her endearing even when she’s making poor decisions. Anna isn’t a fool, just an optimist, and she has no problem trying to fix her mistakes or right wrongs. Bell also has a delightful singing voice that complements Menzel’s belt.
    This cartoon about women has plenty of entertainment for both sexes of all ages, with hilarious moments of slapstick sure to enthrall even non-princesses. If you have a young one, get to the theater this weekend; if you don’t — go anyway. Elsa’s journey from fearful child to powerful woman is a great story for all ages.

Great Animation • PG • 108 mins.

The only time zone big enough for Season’s Bounty in Chesapeake Country

Don’t you love it when you finally find a use for some of the stuff you learned in school?
    We liberal arts majors at St. Louis University, a Jesuit school, had to minor in philosophy, and most of those 18 hours of theoretic thinking buzzed right by me. Yet here I am, reveling in my recent illumination of a new way to understand time, that favorite subject of philosophers. For I’ve realized that I am a denizen of The Eternal Now.
    Think of The Eternal Now as a time zone that works like a really big purse: You can put everything you want into it, and there’s always room for more. The capacity of The Eternal Now expands endlessly, no matter what you’re doing or how much more you add to your program —until you look at the clock.
    Then panic ensues, for you may find your Now is finished before you ever got around to your original purpose. Avoid that sorry state simply by turning your back to clocks — or their backs to you.
    The Eternal Now is a good zone to live in as we enter the busiest weeks of the year. For no other time zone — even vacation time — is capable of stretching far, long and wide enough to accommodate all you want to do these days.
    On the busiest day of the busiest week, this Saturday, December 7, I’m cramming a dozen stops into the elastic expansiveness of my Eternal Now.
    I promise to begin the day at the gym because we’ve got to skip the Jingle Bell Runs, both in Solomons and Annapolis.
    From there it’s my winter citrus pickup from the Lothian Ruritans, just a few miles north of my house at Lothian Middle School. Afterward, I’ll have time to stop by the Bulldawg Holiday Bazaar at Southern High School and the London Towne Craft Show before I dash up to Annapolis for some holiday party preparation. Out of the salon, I’ll rush to Eastport Gallery’s Holiday Group Show and SoFo Holiday Festivities at the Village Green Shops at South Cherry Grove.
    Even in The Eternal Now, keeping up with December 7’s variety takes speed. So I’ll have to forego all the greens crafts I’d love to spend hours doing at American Chestnut Land Trust, Jefferson Patterson Park and Museum, Jug Bay and Willow Oak Flower and Herb Farm.
    Next it’s speeding — but within the legal limit — down to North Beach for the town’s fabulous Christmas Parade. Alas, I’ll be watching — and just the last half — rather than parading this year, which means missing half the fun. But even half is very good.
    Then it’s over to the Christmas Open House at ­Artworks@7th, where both art and refreshments — created by artist Julia Musengo — are high quality. Next begins my annual open house tour of Calvert antique shops at Nice & Fleazy and Chesapeake Antiques.
    Heading south, I’ll visit my animal and human friends at the Calvert Animal Welfare League Holiday Open House before dashing into the Calvert Historical Society Open House at Linden for a spot of history. Then it’s into CalvART for a spell of shopping at the Small Works Holiday Show.
    You work up an appetite living in The Eternal Now, so it’s lucky for me Trinity United Methodist Church’s 49th annual oyster and ham dinner lasts all afternoon.
    Blissfully full, I’ll have to head back north — no Lusby Christmas tree lighting for me this year, alas, and no tea at Historic London Town. I’ve got a big dinner date in D.C. at 6:30. Still, I’ve got time to drop by Medart Gallery’s open house in Dunkirk to hear Bill Resnick while meeting artists Paul McGehee — A Virginia Bay lover who does wonderful paintings and drawings of familiar people and places — and Calvert County’s Robert Fiacco, who’ll be showing lots of new oils on canvas, including his specialty, naval aviation and lighthouses.
    Friendship is right on my way home, so I’ll get to poke my head into Friendship Antiques and Vintage Collectibles’ Open House. Of course I’ll dart across the street for a quick browse in one of my favorite neighborhood places, The Magnolia Shoppe.
    Sunday, December 8 is almost as full, so it’s a good thing The Eternal Now starts anew every morning, noon and night. Among other things, I’m looking forward on Sunday to making my first visit to Bayside History Museum’s new home to see what curator Grace Mary Brady tells me is its “vastly expanded collection.”
    Then comes a whole wonderful new week of holiday opportunities. You’ll fit it all in if you join me in The Eternal Now. Chart your timeless path long-range in Bay Weekly’s Season’s Bounty and a week at a time in 8 Days a Week.

Sandra Olivetti Martin
Editor and publisher; editor@bayweekly.com

Some days, everything’s wrong but the fish

It was cold on the Bay, colder than we wanted to endure. But it had been a long time since either of us had caught a rockfish. So there we were in mid-morning in my 17-foot skiff off the mouth of the Severn in about 35 feet of water with temperatures barely above freezing.
    At least the winds were mild, as were the seas. But the skies were stalled in a dark overcast. I could feel the fingers of cold, damp air trying to creep under my expedition-weight fleece unders. Shivering, I tightened my foul-weather coat.
    As a bit of current is essential for the chumming expedition we had in mind, we had timed our arrival to coincide with the beginnings of a falling tide. Moving water would carry our chum bits out and establish a long, broad scent path for cruising stripers to follow right back to the tasty fresh menhaden baits at the end of our lines.
    The boat swung gently at anchor. I was pleased that the first part of our plan was unfolding as intended. But when I finally looked up from preparing my tackle, I saw that instead of facing south, our stern was pointed toward the distant Bay Bridge. The flood tide was not starting to fall. It was still coming in.
    We quickly baited up, casting out four lines as I dropped the chum bag over the stern to capitalize on the last few minutes of incoming current. We weren’t so lucky. In minutes, our lines sagged as water movement stopped. Off our transom, we watched the chum dropping straight to the bottom.
    It would be an hour or more before the outgoing current would make up. Until then, nothing would happen; rockfish are loath to feed in still water. The prospect of doing nothing but shivering was not inspiring.

Catching a Fluke or Three
    We’d marked a few pods of fish in the area where we’d anchored, and I noticed in the distance some big boats grouped up in deeper waters.
    “Maybe we should pull the anchor and do a little more reconnaissance while the tide is slack,” I said. “It looks like those guys over there may have found something.”
    “Okay,” my partner said, “but you’ll have to wait till I get this fish in.”
    I turned to confirm his jest only to see his rod bent in a hard arc, the drag humming as line poured out.
    “I can’t believe you hung a fish in this mess,” I said, looking for the net.
    When we finally got the rockfish on board it was winter fat, shiny and big enough that there was no need to measure it.
    “Nothing wrong with a keeper in the first five minutes on a slack tide,” I said.
    But I knew it was a fluke. That’s when one of my outfits bent over in its holder and line went peeling off the reel.
    That fish was even bigger than the first, about 26 inches and equally wintertime fat. Soon after, my friend hooked up another. It was a good looking keeper about the same size as his first fish, but we threw it back, deciding that the way things were looking we could afford to raise our standards. We agreed on nothing less than 24 inches.
    “I can’t believe we’re catching these fish in dead water,” I repeated. When I glanced at our electronic finder, the reason became clear. The screen was lit up. Crimson arcs and blobs steadily moved across the four-color LCD. We were sitting in the middle of a school.
    Our stern had barely swung south with the ebb by the time we had managed the last of our four brawny keepers into the ice chest.

A fresh-cut Douglas fir is the safest tree you can buy

Believe me when I say that not all Christmas trees are created equal. I know because I was assigned to set fires under the five most popular Christmas species.
    In 1995, I was asked by the Maryland Christmas Tree Association and the State Fire Marshall’s office to research the most fire-resistant species. I tested white pine, Scots pine, blue spruce and both Douglas and Frazier firs. The State Fire Marshall set the rules. I rolled a single sheet of newspaper into a ball about 10 inches in diameter. I placed the ball against the lowest branches of the tree, then set it afire.

Ancient Ailing Oaks

Q    I live in the St. Margaret’s area near the Bay Bridge. In my neighborhood, many, if not most, of the old oak trees are dead or dying. These are original trees in an area that was never farmed; I’m sure many of them are well over 100 years old. It is so distressing since they are beautiful and I love them and because it costs $2,000 to $3,000 to have them cut down. Do you know why they are dying? Is there anything I can do to save them? I think they are red oaks, though my tree identification skills are poor.
    Thanks so much for your help. I read your column every week and thoroughly enjoy it.
    –Linda Williams, Annapolis

A    There is no way that I can determine the cause of death without seeing the conditions in which they are growing. I have cherry bark oak trees in my yard that are over 150 years old. I keep them healthy by vertical mulching every four to five years. When I moved here 22 years ago, they were in a severe state of decline, but after being vertically mulched, they revived. I suggest that you contact Mark Emmel at 301-345-2981. Mark is a good arborist and is familiar with vertical mulching.
Ask Dr. Gouin your questions at DR.FRGouin@gmail.com. All questions will appear in Bay Weekly. Please include your name and address.

    Fresh-cut trees of each species were delivered to me at Upakrik Farm and stored — some with, others without water — at 70 degrees with lights on for eight hours. Trees were held in storage for three and six weeks prior to testing.
    We set the fires in the Fire/EMS Training Academy’s burn building at Cheltenham, with several Christmas tree growers watching. Each variant of the experiment was replicated three times and videotaped for evaluation by fire marshals from three counties and from the state office.
    White pines generated lots of smoke regardless of the amount of time in storage. They were immediately rejected by the fire marshals.
    Frazier firs were also rejected. Stored without water, they burned readily after three weeks of storage. After six weeks, they exploded into fire.
    Douglas fir was approved as the most fire-safe tree because even after six weeks of storage without water, it did not ignite. Scots pine and blue spruce were also approved.
    We repeated the experiment in 1996 with exactly the same results.
    As a Christmas tree grower, I attribute the Douglas fir’s fire-safe performance to its low resin content. My knives and pruners remain clean even after days of shearing. This is not true with the other species tested.
    As a result of this study, the State Fire Marshal established COMAR 12.03.04, allowing only Douglas fir, Scots pine and blue spruce in public buildings. Each tree must be accompanied with a tag identifying the farm where it was grown, date of harvest and species. Before the tree is moved indoors, two inches must be cut from the base. Tree stands must hold a minimum of two gallons of water. The tree must stay indoors no longer than four weeks.
    To keep your house fire-safe this Christmas season, follow these recommendations.

The interloper visits Spica and Mercury

Mercury is putting on its best pre-dawn show of 2013, more than doubling in brightness this week, from +1 magnitude to –0.5 (each order of magnitude is exponential, so an increase from +1 to 0 is a doubling). Monday marks the innermost planet’s greatest elongation — its farthest point away from the sun as seen from earth and its highest point above the horizon. Mercury rises a little before 6am and climbs nearly 15 degrees above the southeast horizon before the sun rises more than an hour later. Ten degrees above Mercury is blue-white Spica, but even this first-magnitude star pales compared to Mercury this week.
    First discovered last September, Comet ISON is heading into the inner solar system for the first time, coming within 700,000 miles of the sun November 27. If the comet survives that close encounter, it could live up to the comet of the century billing. If not, the next two weeks are your best chance to spot this long-distance traveler.
    With binoculars or a small telescope, look for ISON one degree to the west of Spica Sunday before dawn and less than one-half degree to the east of the star the next morning. By next Thursday and Friday, ISON will be within 10 degrees of Mercury — well within your binoculars’ field of view. Perhaps by then it will be bright enough to see with the unaided eye.
    Sunday marks the full moon, the Beaver Moon and the Frost Moon according to lore. The full moon floats just six degrees below the miniature dipper-shape of the Pleiades star cluster, while Monday night it is even closer to Aldebaran, the red eye of Taurus the bull.
    The full moon’s glow washes out all but the brightest meteors in this year’s Leonid shower, which peaks between the 16th and 18th. Still, the Leonids are active through the month, so patience or luck will likely reward you with a few of these shooting stars.

Here’s your recipe for making them into rich compost

Don’t bag those leaves for the county to collect. Use them in making your own compost. It takes about a bushel of leaves to make a gallon of quality compost, which contains more nutrients and fiber than peat moss and is less acetic.
    Yard debris compost is made by blending grass clippings with fall-harvested leaves. The compost is rich in potassium, calcium, magnesium and lots of important trace elements. Because the nitrogen from the leaves drains back into the stems of the branches from which they fell, yard debris compost contains less than one percent nitrogen, which is contributed mostly by the grass clipping.

Ancient Ailing Oaks

Q    I live in the St. Margaret’s area near the Bay Bridge. In my neighborhood, many, if not most, of the old oak trees are dead or dying. These are original trees in an area that was never farmed; I’m sure many of them are well over 100 years old. It is so distressing since they are beautiful and I love them and because it costs $2,000 to $3,000 to have them cut down. Do you know why they are dying? Is there anything I can do to save them? I think they are red oaks, though my tree identification skills are poor.
    Thanks so much for your help. I read your column every week and thoroughly enjoy it.
–Linda Williams, Annapolis   

A There is no way that I can determine the cause of death without seeing the conditions in which they are growing. I have cherry bark oak trees in my yard that are over 150 years old. I keep them healthy by vertical mulching every four to five years. When I moved here 22 years ago, they were in a sever state of decline, but after being vertically mulched, they revived. I suggest that you contact Mark Emmel at 301-345-2981. Mark is a good arborist and is familiar with vertical mulching.

Ask Dr. Gouin your questions at DR.FRGouin@gmail.com. All questions will appear in Bay Weekly. Please include your name and address.

    Since grass clippings are not readily available in the fall, use this recipe to hasten the composting of leaves so that you will have compost ready for next spring:
    1. Build a compost bin that is at least five feet in diameter using snow fencing, turkey wire, pallets or such. The larger the bin, the better. Place the bin where it will not accumulate water.
    2. Fill a five-gallon pail with a shovel full of garden soil, one-half cup dish detergent and a cup of urea or ammonium nitrate fertilizer; top off with water. Stir thoroughly to create a soupy mud. The detergent helps wet the leaves, and the nitrogen-containing fertilizer replaces the grass clippings in providing the nitrogen microorganisms needed to build their bodies and digest the carbon in the leaves. The garden soil provides the necessary microorganisms, and the mud also helps wet the leaves.
    3. Place 12 to 18 inches of leaves on the bottom of the bin. First, pass the lawnmower through the leaves to chop them up and hasten the composting process.
    4. Use an empty coffee can or the like to wet the leaves with the muddy water. Before dipping into the muddy water, stir thoroughly to maintain a suspension.
    5. With a garden hose misting nozzle, wet the leaves thoroughly, washing some of the muddy water down through the layer.
    6. Repeat steps 3, 4 and 5 until the bin is full.
    7. Check the bin weekly. The composting process can be hastened by dumping your dirty dishwater over the surface of the compost pile. The detergent and grease will help wet the leaves.
    If you need exercise to stay in shape, mix the compost pile by turning it inside-out. Turning the pile in late January or February provides additional aeration, chopping the leaves and eliminating dry pockets that can occur in the initial building.