A Touch of Spring

Apr2

I took the dog out for a walk around the garden this morning and decided it’s still not shorts with a coffee weather, in spite of me trying. There’s a brisk wind blowing and with a temperature just above freezing I decided to give the thermometer a few more hours to warm up and instead cleaned the kitchen. I impressed myself, and now when my wife cleans up every other day I can bring this up as proof that I help… unlike the kids, who are still nearly useless for these things in spite of reports from work that they are quick and on top of things…

A new wave of early spring bulbs is awakening. Pink and purple corydalis, a few chiondoxa blooms, and a carpet of blue Scilla siberica. Each year I debate the ‘enthusiasm’ of the scilla, but it’s hard to think badly of so much blue in the garden.

Speaking of ‘quick and on top of things’, the gardener has been neither. Work is annoying and other than Wednesday afternoon, today is the first day he can get out there for anything. I’m sure someone will suggest he work on the next cabinet for the closet but maybe it’s too cold and windy for that. Sawdust blowing and swirling all through the garage is practically the definition of unsafe working conditions, and we’d be going backwards if some of that blows into the clean kitchen.

Fading snowdrops and the first peony sprouts. Neither cares that nightime lows can still drop well below freezing.

Maybe I’ll try and slap a few things together and then head out back with the shovel. Cold and windy is excellent digging weather and I still have a couple thousand tons of earth to move.

The spring snowflakes(Leucojum vernum) are up and trying to hold up to the battering wind. Someone mentioned that they don’t bloom long and now that’s all I think of when I see them, counting the days since they opened and questioning how many more days of bloom will be ‘long enough’.

What I should really do is divide and move a few billion snowdrops and stray seedlings. If I wait another year things might go beyond knowing who is who, and among snowdrop snobs having the wrong name with the wrong flower is akin to eating your salmon with a salad fork and we can’t have that.

I neglected to deadhead this batch of snowdrops (G.elwesii) last spring and will now have to deal with a sea of grass-like seedlings. Obviously they’re too precious to just weed out.

And now I’m hungry. I’m afraid to dirty the kitchen with a snack before anyone has the chance to admire it but am also pretty sure the empty bags of Easter candy will be a bigger deal, and no one will even acknowledge my hard work this morning. If you have coffee with your peanutbutter eggs it’s breakfast and people shouldn’t deny you breakfast when you’re cleaning the house for Palm Sunday.

Have a great week!

Cooler

Mar21

We missed most of the snow, but in general it was cool here last week. In a fit of mid-March optimism I drug a few of the hardiest things out of the garage and onto the driveway for a little sun and fresh air and then forgot about them for a few days. Things got cooler over the weekend with a Friday night low around 25F (-4C) and I had my concerns for the rosemary, Fatsia, and potted Dracaena, but in the light of the next morning they didn’t look too bad. Of course I left them out for the next night as well, with similar temperatures, because like a small child I’ll try and get away with it for as often as I can until things backfire. Some people only learn things the hard way.

A spring shower and March sunshine have brought on the big dutch crocus (Crocus vernum ‘Pickwick’). The rabbits only nibbled a few of the blooms, but they’ll be back soon enough to finish them off.

In spite of two cold nights, the calendar and stars both say today is the first day of spring, and I’m happy the heavens have finally caught up to where I’ve already been for quite a few weeks. It’s exciting to know that spring has been given its official recognition for the new year but also sad to think that some of the most exciting highlights of the year have already passed. Next week promises warmer weather and with it the peak of the snowdrop season and then the fading away while other things step up for their moment. Already the witch hazel are dropping their petals and the winter aconite are on their way to setting seed and I’m almost missing those chilly afternoons shuffling around the garden looking for the first sprouts.

In a nook shaded by the fence, the last of the winter aconite is holding on to bloom. Seed pods will come next, ripe seed thereafter, and soon I’ll be scattering a new crop of flowers into the next patch of garden.

I think this gardener is feeling a bit of a crash following the abundance of snowdrops this spring. They’re still amazing and a few late ones are just starting and trust me I spend more time than I should soaking them in, but maybe I’ll need some help coming off the high this year.

‘Melanie Broughton’ is just one of the many late forms which supply perfect flowers once the earlier sorts begin to look tired. Maybe I need a late bed strictly devoted to these kinds so they’re all perfectly perfect together. Surely the garden can handle one more snowdrop bed?

Maybe daffodils can be my methadone. In spite of this weekend’s turn to cold the first daffodils are just a few degrees of sunshine short of opening, and you can trust I have my eye on them.

New waterlily shoots frozen into the night’s ice. I’m continuously amazed that soft things like fresh lilypads and tiny things like fresh duckweed can survive a solid freeze.

Oops. One thing which I didn’t have my eyes on were the four pots of daylily seedlings which were put out into the coldframe last week. Daylilies are hardy enough plants, but for seedlings to come out from a cozy winter under the growlights and face a freezing cold night (or two since what’s done is done), might have been more than they should have to handle.

Kinda mushy and wilted, the frozen daylily seedlings will hopefully survive to enjoy spring. Hopefully.

Generally if things freeze off I’m quite quick to write them off and move on, since there’s never a shortage of new seedlings and divisions and gifts and purchases waiting to find a home, but the frozen daylily seedlings could really be a setback to the future of the farm. I was counting on these to provide the 2025 introductions which would be unveiled when I put out my first daylily catalogue. Golly. This really does throw a wrench into things.

You can’t look at snowdrops all day, so Saturday I decided to regrade the entire construction area. The wife kindly pointed out that working on closets would be a better use of my time, considering a machine could do this in a day, but God forbid I have to join a gym to work off my winter fat.

So moving a couple tons of rocky fill did help ease the stress of the ups and downs which come with building a world quality daylily farm, but the even better part to all the hard labour was filling in a few more square feet of the low spot which haunts me in the back of the yard. I feel like the Dutch must have felt when they reclaimed their land from the sea. Every square foot of flat ground holds the potential of a new planting area, and perhaps in their honor I should plant it all to tulips one year, just in case the daylily farm doesn’t keep me busy enough.

The lowest areas back here were perhaps three feet below where I’d like them to be, so into the dip went all kinds of stone and mortar debris, now to be topped off with a foot or so of rocky dirt/fill.

I’m estimating this job should be finished up somewhere around late 2027, assuming I don’t end up in the hospital first. Hmmm. Actually I’m surprised that didn’t come up in addition to the talk of closets, and honestly don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted by that. In another year I’ll be closer to 60 than 50 so…

In the last few days tulips have started to sprout in the potager beds. There will be no room for cabbages, but three or four heads of cabbage didn’t stand a chance against armloads of tulips.

Well that’s not the direction I had planned for this post. It’s the first day of official spring and as always I’ll be gardening as if I’ll live to be 120. In my opinion it’s the only option since imagine planning for a bucket-kicking at 90 and then sticking around for another 30! That’s a long time to regret the unplanted acorn.

Cool

Mar14

I’m feeling a little guilty since I expected great things for this snowdrop season, but never expected it to go on forever. I’m apologizing. Sorry that every post for the past few months has mentioned ‘snow’-anything, and as the East coast gets a little winter weather, and parts of the West coast tunnel through to find front doors and buried cars, I’m also sorry that there’s no end in sight. I’ll try to be quick.

The view from the street is starting to hint at a snowdrop theme, and I think they’re ready for some more dividing and spreading around this spring for an even better show next year.

These photos were taken yesterday afternoon, and today we’re looking at about four inches of snow covering them, but the white stuff always melts quickly in March, even when a foot or two drops. Fortunately we don’t have that here… Sorry Eliza 😉

Finally a flower that’s not white. Crocus heuffelianus, ‘Tatra shades’ doing well but I bet a little dividing and spreading around (once they go dormant) would make for an even better show next year.

A light snow will highlight any new sprouts and flowers which stand out above the snowline, and surely mark them for decapitation by rabbits, but for a few days at least we were able to enjoy them. The rabbits probably figure out real quick that snowdrops are a yuck thing, but crocus are not, and once they find the first blooms they’ll spend the next night or two searching out every last flower in the yard. Good for them I guess. I do get annoyed when they keep coming back to eat every attempt the crocus make at growing foliage, since it will weaken next year’s show, but for the few days the crocus are in flower I don’t mind sharing… a little…

A white flower which is not a snowdrop (Galanthus). I love snowflakes (Leucojum vernum), and this form, which lacks nearly all the green of the normal tips, is even more special. I need to divide and spread around this and the clump behind so it bulks up quicker and puts on an even better show next year.

So that’s two flowers which are not snowdrops and I feel less sorry again, so back to normal!

Can you tell I never pruned that rose last year? Add that to the list. Also add dividing ‘Augustus’ to the list, he’s the drop in the front and with such nice foliage I think dividing and moving him around to a few new spots would make for an even better show next year.

Did you notice a few snowdrops behind ‘Augustus’? They’re all random patches of the giant snowdrop (Galanthus elwesii) and are quite a few more snowdrops than I need. It’s hard to plant new snowdrops when the spots are already filled with old snowdrops so I might have to address all the less-special clumps and their seedlings this summer. Seedlings. Don’t even get me started on seedlings. I have baby snowdrops coming up in all the wrong places, and even though every snowdrop is special your own babies are even more so which means they all need attention.

I’m guessing this is a seedling of ‘Blonde Inge’ because of the bright yellow inner petals, even though I’m not sure how a seed managed to travel the six feet between here and the mother clump. There are a few more scattered about but they lack the yellow and are just plain green. All of course should be divided and moved to spots of their own for an even better show next year.

Although it’s a good excuse, the gardener here isn’t using the on-again, off-again cool weather and snow as a reason to sit on the computer all day looking at daylily sales. He did already divide and move a few bunches of snowdrops to new locations. To be honest it amounted to about 25 minutes of work between vacuuming plaster dust and scooping ice cream, but it does fall into the work category so that’s a good thing. Take a trowel or small shovel, dig deep to avoid slicing through the deeper bulbs… which for some reason always happens anyway… tease a few bunches apart or take it down to single bulbs if you’re greedy, trowel out a new spot and shove them in at the same depth, give them a little drink to settle in. My gardener uses a water-soluble fertilizer like Miracle-Gro as the drink, but better gardeners with more ambition could work in soil amendments and organic fertilizers to start your new plantings off on a good footing.

The new stone wall will probably need rebuilding some day as a result of poor workmanship, but at least the results of the 20 minutes spent planting these snowdrops will last. I can’t wait to see them settle in for an even better show next year!

There’s snow on the ground, the year is barely off to a start, and I’m already obsessing about next year. Sounds about right. I hate to think what I would waste my time with if it weren’t for the garden, probably something silly like managing retirement investments, or monetizing a youtube channel or Ticktock feed. Who needs that, right?

Enjoy this flashback to winter, and may all your bids on your favorite daylily auction not win especially if you were counting on a lot to not win since that’s a bunch of daylilies even if you have a daylily farm to plant. Yeah 😉

A Gala Comes and Goes

Mar10

Last weekend Downingtown Pennsylvania played host to a ‘Galanthus Gala’, an American version of the late-winter gatherings which have tended to form amongst growers and admirers of the brave little snowdrop. As a grower and admirer I felt it was my duty to attend, and true to form I arrived late and stayed too long. Also true to form I forgot to take pictures, which really cuts into the the basis for any of my posts, but content and quality have never stood in my way before so here goes!

My only photo of the vendor area. Thank you Timothy for this one, when he stopped talking for a second to take a photo, I was inspired to do the same. The crowds have thinned and there’s bare table. This is several hours after the frenzy of the doors opening.

I was glad to be there talking to friends, going on and on about plants and snowdrops, listening to talks, getting expert advice, soaking in the atmosphere, enjoying the auction… it was the return of the gala I had missed during the two year pause from Covid.

A little bit of celebrity at the Gala with the famed author David Culp alongside a friend who came to join him. Many thanks to my friend Bridget Wosczyna for this photo, she has enough sense to photograph people as well as all the plant treasures.

So to stick with the important highlights let me just mention that David Culp has read my blog but I don’t think his friend Martha has. But… David’s partner Michael Alderfer admitted he had read the last post about our visit to his garden and that’s one of the highlights of my day for sure. I hope I wasn’t too awkward when he said it though, because for a few seconds I thought he was joking with me and so I of course tried to change the subject pretty fast. Fortunately the Galanthus Gala’s artist-in-residence, Gerald Simcoe, was also there and we started talking about his amazing gala centerpiece. I don’t know if Gerald reads my blog, but I do know that if you click the link for his name you’ll not only access images of some of his artwork, but you’ll also be able to find your way to his online snowdrop listings. All the galanthus in his display are out of his own woodland, and to add to the fun he’s listed some for sale on his site.

A corner of this year’s centerpiece featuring ‘Walrus’ and ‘Blewbury Tart’ behind. ‘Walrus’ struggles here, and to hear Gerald say he divides it and spreads it around just in case a clump decides to pick up and die made me feel a bit better about my own clump’s failure to thrive.

At times during the Gala events there was an air of sadness, as the recent death of Alan Street was still fresh on the minds of many. Alan was Head Nurseryman of Avon bulbs and is one of the great names of the snowdrop world. He was one of the featured speakers at the last in-person gala, and to hear him talk of special drops and the stories behind them, peppered with references to art, literature, and mythology, was a treat to everyone in the audience. I didn’t know him personally, but he struck me as a fun person with a spark of mischief, but also a plain nice soul. At the last gala I stumbled upon him and his friends eating lunch, and tried to be unobtrusive on a bench in the corner, but he spotted me and insisted there was still plenty of room at the table for another chair or two. And that’s how I ended up eating lunch next to Alan Street. I don’t think he ever read my blog, but he was so polite that day asking about my little backwater garden and what I was growing, that I felt like a brilliant grower, on par with one of the greats, and it was my highlight of the day.

A growing legacy in the Downingtown Friends Meeting House cemetery. Each gala, attendees are encouraged to bring and plant a few snowdrops in memory of loved ones. It has been heartwarming to see the plantings of past years begin to grow and flourish.

Of course these things end too quickly and before I knew it I was back in the mountains spending the evening taking kids for ice cream and dropping them off at basketball games. Just for the record these kids do not read my blog.

The Gala haul, a mix of trades and purchases but all purely excellent. For some reason I bought one more pot of gravel which claims to be an expensive peony seedling, and it’s things like that which you never see coming.

All the hardier purchases were planted out the next day, which is unusually prompt for me, because it was such a nice day (in spite of being just 24 hours after the latest slush and ice storm).

It took me a number of years, but I can finally appreciate ‘Modern Art’. This is after several years of a ‘just meh’ opinion.

‘Armine’ is particularly large this year. Here it usually colors more yellowish than deep green, and as it gets paler, takes on the airs of a much more expensive ‘color changing’ irrlicht drop.

Galanthus ‘Lapwing’ in front with his distinctive inners, and ‘Erway’ behind with his odd ovary and overall paler foliage and stems. I don’t know if ‘Erway’ looks the same everywhere, but here he’s pretty consistent in his pale coloring.

As you’ve probably guessed, the rest of this post is just random snowdrops around the garden. It’s been a long, drawn out season with few destructive cold spells, and no loads of heavy snow, so the drops have never looked better.

‘S. Arnott’ clumping up from his original single bulb. This is one to divide and spread around, I can’t imagine ever having too many.

‘Good Blue Leaf’ is one of my favorite forms. Everything about it is perfect and I’ll divide this one as well, more so you can enjoy the uncrowded blooms and foliage.

If all goes well I’ll be investing some time this spring into dividing and moving crowded clumps, and addressing wayward seedlings. I can’t possibly complain about volunteer plants, but I don’t want them confusing the names of my purchased bulbs.

Yellow snowdrop seedlings are marching away from the original mother clump of ‘Primrose Warburg’. I’m surprised by how consistent the seedlings are, nearly all of them could pass themselves off as the original… which they are not.

Perhaps I shall start a ‘good’ seedlings and an ‘average’ seedlings bed, in addition to my North Pole bloodbath bed and my white trash bed. Last weekend a friend traded me a ‘Beluga’ to swim with ‘Narwhal’, and threw in a ‘Polar Bear’ to see what happens. Hope it doesn’t get too ugly adding such a predator to the mix.

Lest you become too impressed by this year’s snowdrop photos, this view shows something a little closer to reality. Closeups and careful cropping make things look far lusher than an in-person visit would show.

Speaking of visits, the dog has become a regular even though he’s always a regular, and a total of two children have toured the garden. Although they haven’t mentioned being impressed by the snowdrops, I’m sure they are and that brings this year’s tour total to three. Perhaps this is the reason I enjoy the Galanthus Gala as much as I do. It’s always nice to escape the eye rolls for a day!

Snowdropping ’23

Feb26

It’s a shameful fact that for as much as I talk up the year’s snowdropping adventure, I also drag my feet in getting the post up. It’s been a week. A week and a little, and I need to stop going through the pictures again and again, reliving the day, and just get them out there with as little babbling as possible. Fortunately the morning is cold so maybe for a few minutes I can be productive while the flowers here soak in the sun before standing back up… and again completely distract me.

Naturalized snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis), winter aconite (Eranthis hiemalis) and spring snowflakes (Leucojum vernus) in a Pennsylvania park.

I started the morning on my own, wandering through a Philly area park admiring the century old blanket of snowdrops and other spring bulbs which carpet the now neglected former estate. There used to be a dream that I’d stumble upon some priceless new variation in white here, but over the years I’ve become satisfied with just seeing them greet the spring each year and carry on unbothered. Between my crawling through the underbrush and bending over backwards to admire trees it’s a miracle I haven’t yet left the park on crutches after tumbling down a rocky embankment, but so far so good.

When planting trees always remember proper spacing and mature height.

I survived, and so off to meet Paula at her garden. It’s been a few years since I’ve had a full-sun, comfortably warm visit there, and this year we made it a priority.

The patches of snowdrops are becoming sheets!

I always get stupidly excited to see all the bulbs in bloom, but this year to see it all in full sun with the blooms wide open I may have let out a naughty word as I got out of the car. That’s a lot of &*^@g snowdrops was my eloquent first impression.

I always love the mossy bed surrounding this ugly old ‘Kwanzan’ cherry tree. There’s so much character in the tree and even though it’s a pain fighting the roots and keeping it in shape I hope it stays for a number of years.

It’s hard taking it all in yet finding the time to focus on all the different forms. She has quite a few and there’s a story behind nearly every last one. Fortunately Paula knows me well enough to not get offended when we’re talking about one clump and suddenly I turn to take a picture of something else or jump over to a new plant!

A big clump of a big drop, ‘Rodmarton Regulus’.

My wish list always grows during these garden visits.

One of the greenest of the greens, galanthus ‘Green Mile’.

A growing clump of ‘Amy Doncaster’

The witch hazel Hamamelis x ‘Princeton Gold’

There was something other than snowdrops which really caught my eye (besides the hellebores and witch hazels), and that was the pink viburnum (Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Pink Dawn’) in full bloom. It actually caught my nose, and I followed the scent over to where the shrub was tucked into the shrubby edge of the garden. Of course I’ve already looked for a source 😉

The fragrant pink blooms of Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Pink Dawn’

With all the distractions, this visit was running into our typical behind-schedule run-mode, but because we sometimes know our limits we made sure to pencil only one more garden into the day.

White snowdrops, blue reticulated iris, and a bunch of other things spread around the driveway slope of Paula’s garden.

It’s almost time for the Galanthus Gala, and Paula’s got a bunch of stuff dug and potted for the day, but that doesn’t mean there’s not more planning and preparation needed. I knew she was headed over to David Culp’s Brandywine Cottage to meet with David that afternoon and discuss, so of course I invited myself along.

The fenced in vegetable garden feels like the heart of the gardens at Brandywine Cottage, and even in the middle of February there’s a jewelbox bed of floral treasures outside the gate.

The gardens were at a snowdrop peak and I don’t even know why I’m bothering to post since books have been written and photos taken which are far superior, but it was an exciting visit and David was nice enough to say ‘post what you want, I enjoy reading your blog’…. um, did you catch that? David Culp said he knows I have a blog and says he might have read it? Honestly I’ll probably try and work that into nearly every conversation I have from this snowdrop season beyond, and I hope it’s not too embarrassing when he finds out.

Yellow on yellow with winter aconite and a nice yellow hellebore with just a faint blush of speckling.

Oh and also these pictures. David’s last two books, ‘The Layered Garden’ and ‘A Year at Brandywine Cottage’ were photographed by Rob Cardillo, so I hope I don’t embarrass myself on that level as well since all my photos rely on luck rather than skill.

Plantings along the driveway. There was actually an apology that we missed the lavender sheet of crocus which had mostly ended.

Not the fanciest view of the cottage, but this view shows how every bed of the garden is layered with snowdrops, snowflakes, winter aconite and other goodies which shine before the perennials and shrubs take center stage.

David and Micheal know how to live, and ‘A Year at Brandywine Cottage’ sounds real fancy with decorating suggestions, planting ideas, and delicious recipes and all the things you like to see in a book, but the crazy thing is that’s just Tuesday to them. You pull up on a Wednesday and there’s a bowl filled with floating hellebore blooms, celeriac soup with a crème fraîche, a toasty living room with fire burning, cutflowers, winter arrangements inside and out, friends pulling into the driveway… It’s pretty cool.

Paths through the garden, snowdrops are settling in everywhere.

There was a bunch of snowdrop talk. There was also snowdrop work which was in progress, but you’ll have to wait until the gala to hear more of that since the heart of it was going on in the growing beds. Clumps were being selected for dividing and potting up in order to fill the sales table, and for the sake of honesty I had to steer clear of any place where shovels and fancy snowdrops were close to one another. We headed round to the meadow and up through the hillside instead.

Paths meander throughout the sloped areas of the garden. If you’re familiar with ‘The Layered Garden’ you’ll know this all began with a noxious, weed-filled slope and a run-down shell of a cottage.

Treasures are tucked throughout the hillside.

Of course we stayed too long. The light was already dimming as we meandered back off the hillside.

Hellebores and a million other things cover every inch of the slope, and there’s much more slope than you can see here. In another week or two the scene will completely change as all the narcissus come in and the hellebores really get blooming.

The hillside is filled with hellebores, and for many people ‘Brandywine’ is more a strain of hybrid hellebores rather than a cottage. There’s a reason for that. Early on in the development of modern hellebores David asked friends overseas for the best and brought back a bunch of these to the US to start ‘dabbling’ with his own hybrid strain. He wanted a few “nice ones” for the slope and needed more than just divisions could supply, so over the years the ‘Brandywine Hybrids’ came into being. They were my first experience with a more upscale hellebore and the strain made plants with clearer colors and more outward facing blooms available to even the more average gardener.

A red section of the slope just getting started. Notice they’ve all been trimmed back of their old foliage. Thousands of plants all trimmed neatly and the debris removed…

A perfect combination of structured shrubs, background evergreens, and spring enthusiasm.

So hellebores are awesome, but for a little while longer all my focus is on snowdrops and snowdrop galas. David Culp’s snowdrop gala is set for this upcoming weekend (March 3rd and 4th) and will again make Downingtown Pa the epicenter of American galanthophiles, either in person or in spirit. There will be online events, in-person and virtual talks, auctions, and Q&As, plus my favorite part the specialty vendors. I’ve been good and only contacted one seller for a super-special plant, but that doesn’t mean my budget ends with that. There’s a reason I’ve been holding back with online sales 😉

So maybe I’ll see you there, maybe I’ll see you online, maybe I’m glad this weekend worked out well and didn’t disrupt my plans on attending, but however it works out I hope you’re having a great end of February!

Snowy Drops

Feb23

Sorry, but a little snow isn’t going to stop the madness.

Snowdrops with winter aconite and a few cyclamen.

Here’s ‘Kildare’ again. The white of the snow really brings out his green nose.

‘Aphrodite’ is one of the newer witch hazels here and has been settling in well.

1 bloom, 1 bloom, no show, no bloom, no bloom, one bloom. That’s my record so far in the six years ‘Norfolk Blonde’ has been painfully tolerating the conditions of this garden. This year to add insult to injury, a pale drop I found in a wild Ny population is putting out two blooms, and they look just as special as the blonde I paid for and have been nursing along. #shadenfreude

‘Blonde Inge’ again. I love the clump this year and now with a little snow the yellow interior seems to glow through.

I’ve been informed this in not the real ‘Magnet’ and for now on I shall refer to it as ‘Notmagnet’. I bought a “Real Magnet” and it’s kind of behind and a little to the right of center and looks just like ‘Notmagnet’ except for the label being different. Don’t let a stray ‘Notmagnet’ on the far right distract you from the ‘Real Magnet’ just next to it, and just for the record I like ‘Notmagnet’ a lot because he’s a good doer.

eranthis orange glow galanthus backhouse spectacles

This orange ‘Orange Glow’ Eranthis hiemalis really is aglow today in the snow. The spot where I threw all his seed last year was scraped by a bulldozer so I’m hoping for a new batch this spring.

‘Rosemary Burnham’ did indeed hold on to her color this year as a result of the cooler weather and refreshing snow. She’s looking very elegant to me.

And that was fast. This post only took about 30 minutes, but getting distracted by other snowdrop pictures, previous blog posts, Facebook snowdrop pictures, witch hazels, long term weather predictions, and potato pancakes all took their toll and brought the full investment to about two and a half hours. Hmmm. Me thinks someone is easily distracted 😉

No Apologies

Feb19

The contractor was supposed to put sheetrock up in the closet, and I did have plans to get a few coats of spackle on it and hopefully be able to paint by Monday, but he didn’t. Thank goodness for that. All of a sudden he’s the bad guy and I “can’t do anything more until the sheetrock is up”, and spent the whole Saturday looking at snowdrops. To make it look good I cleaned the kitchen while waiting for the sun to warm things up outside, but for the most part I was 100% unproductive. Maybe I needed that today. We’re dealing with a child who can now ask about borrowing the car, and that’s somewhat traumatic since all I can think of is never having a full tank of gas again.

The first of today’s favorites, ‘Kildare’. An elegant Irish snowdrop with a nice green lined tip.

Actually he seems to have gotten it in his head that he’s also buying a car. Maybe now is the time to break the news that their car/college fund has been “invested” in snowdrops and there’s not much left in the cupboard for things like insurance, gas, and new vehicles.

Finally. The ‘like a weed’ snowdrop which thrives for anyone and everyone has quit being miserable here and is now growing like he should. ‘Flore pleno’ is the basic double form of the common snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis) and can quickly make large, showy clumps… for most gardeners.

He’s not getting the car tomorrow though. Tomorrow is Snowdropping ’23 and the car and myself are heading South for a full day of snowdrop overload. Hopefully it will be like pre-gaming for the Galanthus Gala, although if next Saturday’s snow materializes it will tragically erase my gala dreams by rescheduling a school competition to conflict with the gala. Oh the irony of a nearly snowless winter bringing a storm on the exact day when I need it to not snow. Grrrrrrr…..

Alongside the potager a more recent snowdrop bed is beginning to fill with goodies. ‘Long Drop’ is quite a nice snowdrop even though I don’t really need another plain white drop becoming a new favorite. It is though…

Whatever. The weather started out cold and ended up beautiful and that’s all that mattered today. Many drops are up and many are at their peak, and I’m going to quit commenting on how remarkably early this is for us even though it is.

‘Bloomer’ has become a nice patch, and I’m pretty sure I share a photo of this favorite every spring.

Next week is supposed to be cooler and if it is I might not even complain as much about missing garden time and going to work. With the Monday being a holiday that’s also a great thing. I think I’ll celebrate it as Galanthus Day this year rather than President’s Day.

A new one for me, Galanthus fosterii, is a species snowdrop with large flowers and fresh green foliage. It’s supposed to be a little picky about its spot in the garden so if you don’t see a photo next year you can probably guess what happened.

Whatever. The garden season is off and running and I could get used to this.

Snowdrops still a little floppy after a 23F night wilted them all down. Hopefully real cold and a dump of snow don’t still come to visit this winter.

‘Blonde Inge’ sprouted up in three days. I guess things are done waiting it out and just growing as if it’s March. The warm weather tomorrow will open these up and should reveal their glowing yellow inners.

So of course I’ll have more to report after tomorrow’s excursion and hopefully it’s as good as they normally are. I’ll be with snowdrop nuts all day, how can it not be? Enjoy!

A Beautiful Day in February

Feb17

Wednesday was beautiful and I got home just in time to see the latest blooms opening under the soft glow of evening night. That sounds exceptionally fantastic. In reality I ran into the house, ignored the family, grabbed the camera, and rushed outside to grab some pictures before it became too dark for my mediocre photographic skills. I almost made it all around the garden before dusk. Things are great and beginning to enter the territory of full bloom, and it’s disgusting I have to work for a living.

‘Diggory’ is completely up and open and has taken on his distinctive ‘puff’ shape. He’s really an exceptional snowdrop.

I’ll try to be quick today.

Alongside the driveway snowdrops and winter aconite are now joining with the pinks of the first cyclamen coum flowers. This is my favorite early spring combination of blooms.

Alan Street’s ‘Blewbury Tart’ is a favorite of many snowdrop lovers. For good reason.

‘Green Brush’ is picky here, and I’ve had to take up offers for replacements twice already, but he still stands out as an excellent green tipped snowdrop. I hope he continues to multiply in this spot.

There was no begging an offset of ‘Ronald Mackenzie’ from anyone. In a moment of insanity the gardener bought one of these “difficult to please in the garden” yellow snowdrops and is still holding his breath on year two, even though Ronald seems to tentatively approve of his planting site.

An orange snowdrop? I almost gave a little gasp when I saw the tinted glow on ‘Anglesey Orange Tip”. Last year I missed it (the color fades as the flower opens fully) but this year it’s unmistakable.

More snowdrops are yet to come, but today the front border along the street is beginning to gain a respectable show of yellow winter aconites. As an aside, it appears the gardener tried to get a stepping stone path started last year, but it also looks like he came up a little short…

‘Rosemary Burnham’ comes up with her deepest saturation of green and then fades either slowly or rapidly depending on the sun and temperature. If it gets cold tomorrow (which is predicted) this color should last nicely!

‘Brenda Troyle’ is one of the first named snowdrops planted here, and it’s nice to think that all the single bulbs will eventually become similar clumps given nine years of growing.

Hopefully that wasn’t too bad. This weekend I’m planning to get in my annual snowdropping adventure to points South, so of course that always deserves a post of its own, and in just about two weeks (March 3&4) there’s David Culp’s Galanthus Gala in Downingtown Pa. That’s a lot, so don’t start looking for a break in the snowdrop posts just yet. If all goes well there are many more to come so keep that “oh nice Frank, good for you” comment ready ’cause I’m barely getting started.

Earliest Spring Ever

Feb14

We can usually squeak our last day of local skiing in during the first week of March, but this year the middle of February will be stretching it. Spring seems to be here. Not Easter dress, bouquets of tulips spring, more of a garden waking up, could still get buried in snow kind of season where you’re somewhere after mud season but not yet ready to put the winter coat away completely. None of that makes sense, but maybe it does, and I suspect that’s a reason you still read this blog rather than just skim the pictures… not that I could blame you for skimming, it’s all just snowdrop nonsense again!

Winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) and snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) next to the driveway.

Although it’s been remarkably warm the plants still don’t seem to have that urgency you see after a March blizzard melts and everything erupts. Tulips and daffodils are still lying low and only a few crocus have started sprouting. The snowdrops seem eager but a few are still holding back as if they’re also a little apprehensive regarding the calendar. Whatever. I declared spring last week and spring it is. The entire garden was finished off this weekend and nearly every bed is cleaned of winter debris and cleared of tired hellebore and epimedium foliage.

Just like my definition of spring’s arrival bucks the trends, my ‘cleaned up’ beds will also not please everyone out there. There are still leaves everywhere, but at least the birch trees were power-washed last fall, so thank goodness for that!

A good amount of rain is forecast for Thursday and that combined with more warm will likely get everything sprouting. Even a cold Friday night (just in time for the weekend) won’t be enough to stop the progress.

More leafy beds. ‘Richard Ayres’ in the center is looking better than he ever has, the mild weather has spared this early bird from his normal beatings.

You may have noticed I allow quite a few leaves to stay on my beds and if you really insist on knowing more I’ll be happy to go on and on about it. Around here my autumn cleanup has been reduced to barely cleaning out beds, mowing all the leaves up from the lawn, and then just dumping the chopped mulch over whatever lays there to cover it all up in a nice consistent chopped leaf look. I act like it’s a careless activity but to be honest I’m almost neurotic about stray grass seedheads falling into the mulch and having their beige-ness contaminate the brown-ness, and having spots where there are too many whole leaves, and not enough chopped bits to settle everything down, and…

This spot by the compost has just enough broken bits of twigs and small leaves to look like it just happened. Even the bit of brick looks like it was just left where it fell rather than placed there because I liked the mossy look of it.

So is it obsession or just some elaborate story being spun to cover up a sloppy cleanup? Maybe I don’t even know myself, but I do know my policy of mowing whatever I can saves me from a ton of trips to the compost pile. Weeding and compost turning and digging and hauling are a bunch of work so why not throw everything on the lawn, suck it up with the mower and then use it elsewhere (or back in the same bed) as a mulch to keep down the weeds? Saturday there were piles of hellebore leaves heaped on the lawn, Sunday there was a nice mulch smothering the bittercress in the tropical bed. I think that’s a win-win.

This is the first spring I’ve ever actually seen ‘Egret’ show it’s distinctive upward curl to her petals. Exciting? Of course. It doesn’t take much with snowdrops.

So it’s not even mid February and the garden is already tour-ready. I’ll be spending the next few weeks leading tours through the garden and reminding visitors to follow the official snowdrop path and to not stray into the moss garden. I’m sure everyone will be thrilled with my snowdrop stories and of course be amazed by my name dropping. Boy will I be busy.

A few years ago a friend gave me a tiny sliver of the yellow snowdrop ‘Dryad Gold Bullion’. She’s done well and even if she looks similar to her ‘Wendy’s Gold’ parent, I think she’s slightly more vigorous.

When the tour buses stop I wonder if they’ll notice the still-not-repaired bulldozer tracks across the yard, the scaffolding, and the piles of gravel and scrap siding. And the mud. Hmmm. Maybe in my enthusiasm I’m missing a few things but such runs the passions when spring comes knocking, even if winter was all of 8 days this year 😉

Spring?

Apr27

Last Sunday was fantastic. There was sunshine and warmth, and coffee on the porch, and then here was a nice stroll to look at plants. Then there was more looking and some sitting and then a little more looking. I believe things were actually growing as I watched and that’s a nice change from the chilly standstill that the last few days have had us at… and the snow… but nearly all of that melted when the warmer weather rolled in. Eventually I even did a little work!

This spring has been good for the hellebores… except I probably have too many and I probably have even more seedlings coming along so I probably should open up a few new spots and not plant other things there since I’m opening them up for future hellebore seedlings…

I’ve been a little down on the garden due to gloomy weather and construction debris, but just a couple hours of short sleeve gardening with spring flowers opening had me flying high again. My weedy, disheveled potager with a few tulips close to opening had me imagining the grandeur of Keukenhof right here in my own backyard, but now the reality of another gloomy day has brought me back down to earth. I think it will be nice enough, but things could still use a bit of work here.

Anemone x lipsiensis is a cute little spring bloomer. I bought a little root the same year a friend gave me a piece and I assumed they’d be the same thing but they’re not. Now I need to decide if the smaller, paler clone on the left is different enough from the one on the right to bother separating.

I think a breakthrough was finally making a move on the poor little boxwood hedge which was upended when construction fill had to be shuttled from the foundation hole to the low spot in the back of the yard. My jelly ‘topsoil’ was squeezed to the side by the weight of the backhoe, and when it squished over it took the hedge with it. Part of me wanted to rip it out and rethink things but then the other part decided it would be worth digging out and straightening up. So… the hedge along the potager will be dug and returned to its upright position.

My sad and abused boxwood hedge. All winter it’s been nearly pushed over and I’ve been back and forth on what to do.

The hedge across from it is a different story. It’s also riding a wave of squishy topsoil and I think that wave is about to crash.

The even sadder and more abused neighboring boxwood hedge. Maybe it’s time to say goodbye.

Come to think of it I’m not all that happy with the swingset in the middle of the yard anymore either. The kids don’t use it all that much and when they do they’re not toddlers I need to keep an eye on, rather they’re teens who wouldn’t mind hiding with their friends somewhere off to the side. Hmmmm. And don’t even get me started on the trampoline.

Construction has not been kind to the pond. It’s a muddy mess which fills with runoff, but the waterlily is returning and I see duckweed bits floating about so all is not dead.

Maybe changes are afoot. It’s not surprising that poorly planned projects of five and ten years ago need updating, and the sad truth will be that their replacements will likely be just as hasty and poorly planned. Obviously I’m one of those people who needs to learn everything the hard way.

A pile of rocks might as well become a wall so as to not look so much like a pile of save-them-somewhere rocks.

Don’t think that my whole beautiful weekend was filled with the joys of stone moving and hedge lifting, there was also the fun moment when a small jackhammer showed up so that “if I wanted to start taking out the concrete patio section and digging out new basement stairs” I could. Lucky me!

Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica) can be floppy and messy and rapidly die down when the weather gets warm, but I’m determined to get a few settled into the garden.

So even when my day of rest was topped off with three hours of jack hammering and digging I still thought it was a fantastic weekend. The weather was beautiful and I even snuck in a quick hike and garden center run with the daughter. She got it into her head to trim Grandma’s spiral evergreens, pull weeds, and also wanted to plant a few flowers, so needless to say I was thrilled to hear her speaking my language and found the time to look at plants with her 😉

‘Jetfire’ is a nice little daffodil that looks all yellow most years… until a cold spring comes our way. Then the trumpet burns orange just like it likely does every year in more reliably dismal climates.

All this is still a lot of raw construction talk and torn up earth, so hopefully the next batch of photos will be more pleasing and flowerful. I think it will be. The daffodils are beginning and with tulips right behind them I’ll be thrilled, even if the sun is lost and gloomy weather returns. You can’t hold spring back forever.

This year the yellow trumpet daffodil ‘Tweety Bird’ holds the record for longest bloom. A full month after first opening, it still looks exceptional, and it doesn’t hurt that this small trumpet flower form might be my very favorite daffodil form.

‘High Society’ just barely missed the bulldozer blade. It’s such a highly regarded, good grower, and I can’t think of a single reason to justify my luke-warm opinion of this plant.

Hope the garden did well for you this weekend. I feel recharged and can’t wait to get back out there, especially if it’s heavier on the sit and look side than it is jack hammering and stone hauling 😉