A Little Weird

Mar13

It’s barely past the first week of March and spring is in full force and normally I’d be exploding with snowdrop excitement but I think all the rain has literally put a damper on it. Snowdrops which should be perfect are waterlogged and beaten, and the warm rain has them opening when they shouldn’t. There were maybe two beautiful days mixed in there, but both coincided with late days at work, and now with a few more approaching I of course have to stay late again. Let me reiterate my plea for millions in snowdrop-admiring grant money if there is such a thing, or perhaps just throw money at me to stay home and garden… although if you can just add a few dollars for a retirement plan and health insurance that would be nice as well.

The un-droplike galanthus ‘Octopussy’. Better care would likely produce a neater, more robust plant but regardless, I still like the weird, green-tipped blooms.

So just keep me in mind if you have a few million laying around without a purpose. My snowdrops could have used the cover of some fancy glass cloches in all the rain, but instead there I was buying pizza and wings for not only my own kids but random friends and girlfriends who showed up, and that really doesn’t help the plant budget.

Returning for another year, the weird ‘spiky’ snowdrop, galanthus ‘Narwhal’ is even more unusual in that he hasn’t died in solidarity with most of the other weirder types. Even with ‘Polar Bear’ planted nearby he’s unafraid and throwing caution to the wind.

I suppose I’ll get over the rained out season. Eventually. In the meantime I’m excited by the possibility the drops might get some attention in the way of care and tending this spring, rather than the usual good intentions and aimless shuffling and looking. If the soil dries someday (although I see another inch of rain in the forecast) things will be up for division and replanting, and I’ve already top-dressed a few singletons with compost this past weekend before the latest deluge rolled in.

Another good grower for me is galanthus ‘Starling’ which is on the milder side of weird yet still odd to consider as a snowdrop. The large flowers make a nice show as they’re held out horizontally at first and then begin to hang as the bloom ages. I hope it continues to do well here.

The weekend’s deluge lasted all Saturday afternoon. Fortunately I took these photos Friday so had that at least to tide me over.

Not really weird, but galanthus ‘Flocon de Neige’ always looks a bit weird under my care. Well grown plants can be one of the most beautiful snowdrops, but mine always look a bit ‘peaked’, so I’m still working on that.

As I worked through the pictures I guess there are quite a few in bloom and it must just be that I’m more accustomed to them bursting out of the cold ground and looking perfect in the sun rather than a trudging tired from weeks of deciding if it’s time to grow, and then finally making a go of it in the gloom. Like myself I think they prefer sun, even if it’s a cold winter sun which barely melts the frost.

Nearly a traditional snowdrop, galanthus ‘Angelique’ is all white elegance with its extended inner petals.

Okay, so time to stop the complaints. Sunday morning the sun was out for about 20 minutes so I jumped out to enjoy it and then eventually tried to tackle a few things which were do-able in the muck.

‘Galadriel’ is late enough to still be perfect in spite of the weather. She’s one of my favorites and the tall flowers show an elegant line of green on the inners when fully open.

I decided moving trees and shrubs was a priority. Six Serbian spruce were moved from the potager to the other side of the berm slope, and perhaps someday a full wall of evergreens will block the industrial park. A few other shrubs were moved around the yard and some final pruning happened before the snow started falling too furiously.

‘S Arnott’ is still looking nice yet a little tousled from the weather while the double ‘Flore pleno’ behind him is still going strong. I mention this only to fuel the fight between myself and my friend Kathy as to which is the better landscape drop.

Luckily I sat down right as the bulk of the snow started falling. It’s much easier to shake off snow rather than clean another seat off for the next rest break, so that worked out well. Also what worked out well was doing this in the backyard rather than the front since yet again I was the only one out there gardening in the snow and I can be much less self-conscious about it when fewer people can see me.

About a week ago, after announcing the arrival of spring, several of the hardiest plants came out again after spending winter inside the garage.

While I sat out there in the snow waiting for someone to yell at me to get back inside the house what’s wrong with you you’re sitting out in a snowstorm I considered the plants which I had already taken out of the garage and placed outside for the year.

As the snowdrops fade the hellebores step up. These seedlings should really be looked over and thinned out, but I can’t help but find good in each bloom…

The thinking only lasted about ten minutes before the work involved in dragging things like geraniums and dracaenea and amaryllis back helped make up my mind. I chose the ‘easy come, easy go’ option. They’re near the foundation, the lows should only drop to 30-31F and as you know I have too many plants. Fortunately a brief review the next day didn’t show any damage so I guess I’m relieved?

The sun finally made an appearance after the first snow squall rolled through.

So that’s about where we’re at. Spring was here, it rained, it rained, it snowed, it got cold, and now for the next few days it’s quite warm. The first daffodils opened, a nice one called ‘Snow Baby’, but this early one also doesn’t like warmth and will likely fade quickly while other sturdier types take over. That should happen tomorrow. The first ‘Tete-a-Tete’ is hours from opening and by the end of the week there should be masses of corydalis, bunches of hellebores, and a good amount of daffodils taking over. I’m sure I’ll be out there.

Narcissus ‘Snow Baby’ aka ‘Ice Baby’ with an appropriate background. The pale yellow will fade to white within another day or two.

This rapid progression sometimes bothers me since the crocus will likely start and end within a week, but the pace brings something new on every day and that’s kinda fun as well. It’s just weird starting a post with a cold drizzle, witnessing a blustery snowstorm, and then finishing with warm sunny days.

The spring snowflakes (Leucojum vernum) always follow on the heels of the snowdrop season, and perhaps next spring I’ll be quick enough to get some good pictures of the newer plantings.

I actually planted pansies today. An excuse presented itself and before I could overthink the idea I found myself at a nursery filled with fresh pansies and perennials and (still tiny) annuals. They were closing soon, I buy more when I’m rushed 😉

Enjoy the rest of the week, and I hope you’re also seeing some sun, warmer weather, and signs of spring!

And Then it Was Over

Mar9

So it’s raining again and it’s been raining and there’s more rain in the forecast. It’s warm, well maybe not brutally warm but at least unusually warm for March, and things are sprouting all over. Snowdrops are in bloom and won’t last long with all this going on, and the Galanthus Gala is over for another year. Just so you’re prepared, this promises to be a lukewarm post, kind of like going back to work after New Year’s and Christmas have passed and you’re completely in holiday mode yet it’s over and you’re back to waking to the alarm clock rather than to excitement for the day. I’ll try to rekindle the excitement just for this post, and perhaps tomorrow will be a drier, cheerier, snowdrop-filled day!

‘Augustus’ in the bright, deliciously warm sunshine of Paula Squitiere’s garden. Almost too sunny for photos, but too much sun is absolutely not a complaint!

Great highs are often followed by a lull and I believe it’s hitting me. I had an excellent time, and to make it even more excellent we rolled together Snowdropping ’24 wand Gala ’24 all into a single two day event of snowdrop-overload. Sadly I don’t have any decent pictures of the morning and the hours spent touring my friend Paula’s garden, or the visit to the still dormant (yet showing great promise) Bondville Mill Park, but I did click a few photos at the afternoon destination. I hope you don’t mind me re-living the day 😉

The Cyclamen coum were at their absolute peak when we visited the greenhouses of John Lonsdale’s Edgewood Gardens.

I’ve been to Edgewood Gardens a few times before but there’s always something new, and for this visit it was the Cyclamen coum and hellebores, both at their peak. They were amazing. If the seedlings weren’t already all destined for the Gala sales tables I could have really done some damage to my wallet, so as a plan B, I convinced myself that I could replicate this at my own place by sowing plenty of seed this summer and waiting a couple years and…. well I can at least imagine being able to replicate 🙂

Dr Lonsdale on the right, Timothy Calkins to the left. John is no doubt extolling the virtues of his newly named Cylamen coum ‘Sophie’ strain, it’s the pool of heavy-blooming, dark purple plants at the corner of the bench.

Another vision which I will not even imagine replicating were the clumps of Christmas rose (Helleborus niger) which were in peak flower throughout the gardens. Some had already been blooming for months, but the main show had come on in the last few weeks. Of course they were all of a large-flowered strain, some fading to pink tones, some variegated, and even a double, and all amazing. They were thriving and most had seeded in on their own and of course I didn’t bring up that I’ve killed these plants three times already and the fourth was likely thinking about dying as well… but with eternal optimism I know there will be a fifth try. How could I not be with visions like this!?

Helleborus niger scattered about in the beds of Edgewood Gardens.

Besides dozens and dozens of H. niger there were many other species and crosses of Hellebore. One which I have yet to try killing is the H. thibetanus which has also clumped up and sown around. Unlike many of the other evergreen hellebores, H. thibetanus is one which goes fully dormant for the summer and seems to be a little more critical of growing conditions not entirely to its liking. Maybe if I can ever stop killing off the cute little H. niger seedlings I’ll give this trickier one a try.

More H. niger with H. thibetanus behind. They were quite nice…

Oh and other hellebores. Fancier species and hybrids fill the lower slope but even the commoners which fill the upper portion of the hillside were nothing to complain about. Hmmm. There’s a slope behind our house going down to the industrial park. Native plants might be ideal, but thousands of hellebores? That might also be a nice option.

Hundreds of self-sown hellebore at Edgewood Gardens. With other treasures galore these plants are a little more prolific than one might like, but in bloom it’s an excellent sight.

Besides the show stoppers there were thousands of other things coming along such as peonies, trillium, trout lilies, hepaticas, snowdrops, winter aconite, corydalis… even the paths were peppered with treasures.

This bunch of full-bloom troutlily surely ended up in every visitor’s camera roll. It was perfect. Erythronium caucasicum for those who need to know these things.

So Friday was a great pre-game. A day filled with thousands of snowdrops, multiple gardens, beautiful weather, and then an evening of great food, friends, and the first Gala talk (an online presentation) covering the work of Nancy Goodwin and her amazing Montrose Gardens. I was now all set to tackle the Galanthus Gala the next morning.

As the crowds gather outside, David Culp and Andy Schenk work out last minute strategy. Hellebores fill the sales tables and Gerald Simcoe’s Gala display graces the center of the space.

This year I offered to carry a box and thereby managed to sneak in past the crowds. Quite a slick move if you ask me but once my box carrying skills were revealed I ended up with a bunch of other tasks which almost interfered with my scoping out the sales tables before the opening bell rung. It was worth it though. When the doors opened and the crowd swarmed in I had the chance to see the excitement first hand. Excitement and also a good bit of crazy in some of those eyes. You would be wise not to put yourself between some of the more determined shoppers and the target of their obsessions, and as always it’s a relief to know that in some crowds I can still come off as somewhat not-completely plant obsessed.

About 45 minutes in and the rush has subsided enough to get a picture.

The rest of the day was filled with additional talks, more plant browsing, meeting up with friends, more plant browsing, braving the rain, more plant browsing….

Matthew Bricker and his table-full of perfectly blooming snowdrops. The plants look fresh, Matthew looks fresh and then the crowds came. By the end of the day a total of four pots remained, and I was still considering taking ‘Sentinel’ home and making it three.

In all it was a great trip and event and of course I’ll be there again next year, and maybe then I’ll make a stronger effort to be more social, since for some reason I felt a little talked-out by lunchtime. Maybe carrying a jar of Nutella to boost my energy throughout the day is a good plan since being talked-out is no excuse on a once a year chance to swim through the biggest pool of snowdrop nuts in the US, and a full year is a long time to wait when an opportunity is lost.

Thanks of course to all the organizers and planners who put so much time and effort into getting this together each year. I can only imagine since to me it always seems to go off without a hitch and I’m sure in reality there are quite a few bumps along the way. All the best until next year!

Gala Countdown

Mar1

Just one more day and David Culp’s Galanthus Gala is a go and of course I’m ready. Early entry to the hall on Saturday and in person attendance at the talks has been sold out for a couple weeks, but after 10am anyone can stroll in to shop the sales tables, and there’s also a virtual option for the talks. If you’re in the mood and can make it to Downingtown Pa I’d say go for it! There is nothing similar anywhere else in the US, and the range of rare and special things for sale under one roof will be unparalleled.

The most common double snowdrop, Galanthus flore pleno.

Rare and special is great, but let me take a minute to go on about the most common snowdrop cultivar out there. First I apologize to everyone (including myself) who are excited about the latest and greatest, but the double version of the common snowdrop (G. nivalis) really does earn its keep and its place in just about any snowdrop garden. Flore pleno doesn’t complain much as long as you remember it’s a little piglet who likes a nice mulch, fertile soil, and eventually division since it does tend to clump up quickly and will overcrowd if neglected. It’s also sterile, not that it matters much, but when you consider how widespread it is via stray bulblets and sharing that’s quite impressive, plus sterile flowers tend to stay in bloom longer and don’t spend energy on seeds, so that’s another reason it consistently puts on a good show. My friend Paula states it’s the best snowdrop for filling beds with bloom, and I agree.

Flore pleno, the double snowdrop, in one of the damper parts of the garden.

Ten years ago, Paula gave me my Flore pleno start with a little baggie of about 25 freshly dug bulbs, and over just a few years they’ve grown into hundreds. Their original spot was too dry and bare and the bulbs barely bloomed, but once moved into a more woodland setting they exploded. I’m really beginning to like their “messy” and “common” look, and for a while dedicated an entire bed to Flore pleno and her related forms. I named it my ‘White Trash’ bed and and it’s everything special even when they’re not that special.

An unamed, common Galanthus elwesii. I have a few like this and love how they always look surprised and confused.

I’m sure you’d guess that many parts of my garden are filled with things which are not that special. I’ll be excited to consider expensive little things in tiny pots this weekend but even the premier ones which I bring home are destined to share their new bed-space with the peasantry. By the way the peasants in the front street border are multiplying with abandon, and each year I’m closer to sweeps of self-seeding winter aconite and snowdrops. In just a few more years even the most refined eye may have to acknowledge their enthusiastic masses.

I need more witch hazel. Two were lost when the bulldozers came through and how can I have snowdrops and winter aconite without an overstory of flowering witch hazel?

Okay, I have to admit that even with this talk of a love for the most common I did fall for plenty of special snowdrops which were more special because they had a name. Today I realize they all kinda look alike but I still can’t honestly say I regret adding them to the garden or that I’d do things differently. Each is its own treasure (says no one other than a snowdrop-nut) and many have their own story which comes to mind when they sprout each spring.

Galanthus ‘Robin Hood’ is an old variety which may date to the 1800’s and is not the latest and greatest but is quite nice anyway.

But it’s late and stories always go on, so let’s wrap up this pre-Gala post.

Probably only about 100 years old as a cultivar, ‘John Gray’ is still sought out and planted. He’s a stretcher here and I think would display better on a slope but who knows when that move will happen.

I’m sure I’ll add a few things. I always do and it has started to become obvious when you look at the beds.

‘The Wizard’ is a nice tall, more recent introduction, with nice green marks on the outers and even a little touch of green up top. I like him.

…unless you visit ‘Norfolk Blonde’. She just sulks, special or not.

Another year of choosing life, ‘Norfolk Blonde’ has even flowered again this spring. A better gardener would have moved her to a better spot years ago, or at least cleared her some breathing room, but no. I actually enjoy complaining about her 🙂

Did I mention that common or not, the season is early? Probably, and things are about ready to peak even though just by a leap it’s still February. Nearly everything has been convinced it’s time to come up and I guess they’re on to something. After tonight’s cold I don’t even see a single night below freezing for the entire first half of March, and that’s crazy. Quite a few 50’s and 60’s sit in the forecast and I suspect this will rush the season ahead even more.

‘Merlin’ in front backed by ‘Mrs Backhouse #12’, two very common and not-cutting edge snowdrop varieties.

And here we are, finishing up just before bedtime. As always I apologize for the rambling and nonsense but maybe for just one year I can remember to take a few pictures worth posting from the Gala. Maybe. They’re all likely to be plant photos, but I’ll try to remember some readers are also interested in people and perhaps I can accommodate. Just don’t tell my family, sometimes they mention how many plant photos I have and how few birthday, Christmas, etc there are and I don’t think adding pictures of random, non-family plant people will help the debate.

Winter Flowers

Feb15

Last weekend was beautiful. Technically we’re in the depths of winter, but with a January thaw which has blended into a February thaw winter just doesn’t even seem to be trying this year. Part of me doesn’t mind, but the other part misses the weeks of nothing to do but curl up in a blanket indoors and that bounty of weather-imposed reading and puzzle time. A lack of snow and an abundance of mild days doesn’t offer the same break, and in fact can be exhausting with all the poking and shuffling around -hunched over of course- which needs to be done on a daily basis. Also there’s the idea that this is just the start of ever increasingly warm winters and the anxiety over where it will end… yeah that’s also slightly concerning…

Honeybees busy visiting the winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis). Plant nerds may notice the bee sits on the straight yellow species while the blooms behind are seedlings of the more apricot ‘Schwefelglantz’, but I don’t think the bees care.

But this week my only consideration is that I’m enjoying winter aconite, snowdrops, witch hazel, and other winter flowers in the middle of February.

Snowdrops close to the house are in full bloom.

The pattern and schedule of these flowers is oddly different than the order I’ve become accustomed to. Some late snowdrops are in full bloom, some early ones are barely up, flowers in the later, more shaded beds are beating out flowers in protected spots, and it seem all kinds of disorganized but I’m sure there’s a logic which escapes me.

More of the straight Eranthis hyemalis, it’s been seeding about and patches are finally forming.

Strangely enough many of the other bulbs are still a little wary of the mild temperatures. I don’t blame them since it’s hard to trust a spring which shows up in the middle of winter, and there’s bound to be an argument somewhere along the line before May and I’d rather not face the frozen wreckage of a spring garden which trusted a little too blindly.

This is Galanthus ‘Egret’ and I like it more and more each spring as it clumps up and settles in. Like the wings of a bird the flowers take flight when fully open.

Ok, one more complaint about a fabulously early and moderate spring. Without a foot of frozen soil and an inch or two of crusty old ice and snow holding everything back the pace of spring seems less exciting. Even with a string of mild days there’s no explosion of new blooms or a string of new flowers opening hour by hour, and it’s more measured and contemplative. I love the excitement of a spring explosion, but I’m also foolish to complain when it doesn’t happen. Four out of five days I’m stuck at work for the explosion and it’s sad cramming it in to the 48 minutes between getting out of the car and the sun going down so just forget I ever mentioned that last complaint.

Another snowdrop which took a few years to grow on me, galanthus ‘Blewbury Tart’.

With spring smoldering outside the fever inside is burning, and I’m moving into dangerous territory with a risky date on the horizon. In case you don’t know March 2nd is Galanthus Gala time, and for me that means a trip to Downingtown PA to meet up with fellow snowdrop fans to browse the snowdrop vendors, consider other rare plant purchases, listen to snowdrop-themed talks, and enjoy the enthusiastic bidding of the Gala auction. Since 2017 David Culp has been hosting this event and if you’re interested in specifics the ticket site can be found >here< …although I have to warn you that tickets for everything other than the streaming online access are already sold out. But don’t fret. Free admission runs from 10-4 and perhaps missing the opening frenzy and enjoying the sales tables while the masses have moved on to the lectures isn’t the worst approach. Here’s another link, this one to the Gala Facebook page which has more info on the vendors and the event, and even though nobody asked I’m going to give away my method for approaching this sale.

Walk in and start talking to someone. Ignore the selling frenzy. Talk to more people. Examine what others are buying and randomly stalk the people who are carrying the coolest plants. Make it (hopefully) less awkward by asking them about their favorites. Eventually start looking at plants. Try to make a full circuit without buying anything because there’s no way you can afford buying everything you want. Go back to the start and see what’s left and only then can you start buying. Trust me you’ll save a ton of money this way and still end up with too much… plus on the first round let’s be honest, everyone has a cheat list with a special snowdrop or witch hazel or two on it, so maybe I could be entirely understanding if you falter and pick up a few things on the first round 😉

If I didn’t already have one I’d consider ‘Moya’s Green’ to be worth adding to the cheat list. It’s been a good grower here, large blooms, the green fades in warmer weather but don’t we all?

Sorry, I didn’t expect to go on like that. It’s a weeknight and bedtime approaches so here’s where the warm weekend went.

I was relieved to see ‘Rosemary Burnham’ returning after I ripped up the boxwoods here and seeded grass. It will be interesting to see how she holds up to the new environment, and it will be interesting to see if the stray sprouts are more Rosemary or some equally interesting seedlings.

One of my favorite snowdrops out of the bulk elwesii bulbs. Large flowers and nice foliage, they just don’t like a cold snap after sprouting.

A warm weekend in February will almost always bring on a cold snap and here we are. Snow and some colder weather but nothing for most plants to worry about. I’m actually loving the sunshine and brisk weather.

I rarely get home in time to see this one open in the sun, but today I did. Adonis amurensis ‘fukujukai’.

Fortunately it’s not too brisk, and the snow is melting faster than it can pack down and turn to ice and the plants should be fine. Even better it will slow the season down and keep the more tender things from thinking it’s time to grow.

Galanthus ‘S. Arnott’ in the afternoon light.

Actually with things not growing yet I can imagine my beds are riddled with empty spots and perhaps I should go all out on the first round. Hmmm.

Have a great week, whether or not your days are warm or brisk, and trust me this isn’t the last you’ll hear of Galas or snowdrops 😉

It Worked!

Jan31

Well look at that. Northeastern Pennsylvania, end of January, and the winter aconite is blooming and the witch hazel is open. I’m sure it’s entirely due to our faithful observance of the Ten Days of Plantness, and I’m thrilled to have color returning to the garden now that the ten darkest weeks of our Northern Hemisphere winter have passed.

The pale yellow form of winter aconite (Eranthis hiemalis) is always first in flower by a few weeks over the regular bright yellow.

Surely it’s all downhill from here, right? Might as well mothball the winter coat for another year and pull out the shorts and sandals because it will be cold drinks on the porch season before we know it!

Galanthus ‘Colossus’ is always eager to rise during any break in winter, except usually the return of winter brutalizes any flowers which dare open. This year a blanket of snow came at just the right time, and for once he looks great.

Ok, maybe there’s still a bit of winter to get through but at least we have progress and I hope you’re seeing something similar in your own garden. These winter flowers can really lift the spirits in January especially during a winter which tends more towards rainy and gray rather than cold and white, and it’s somewhat of a compensation for another lackluster ski season.

A lonely flower on the witch hazel (Hamamelis ‘Pallida’). With the exception of ‘Arnold’s Promise’ all the witch hazels are sparse this year and I’m not entirely sure of the reason, but am guessing they didn’t get the rain they wanted when they wanted it.

For a while I though just about everyone was experiencing another mild winter, but then heard multiple stories about record-breaking cold earlier in the month and am wondering what the real story is. You often hear of ‘records broken’ but is it just for that date, or that town on that day, or that month?… I’m never sure beyond my own little corner of this state, but from what I saw here, although the weather got colder we’re still running a zone 7 winter in what used to be zone 5 territory, and for what it’s worth I’m sourcing crape myrtles and selecting camellias for planting this spring 😉

Flooded snowdrops. With all the rain there are puddles sitting in just about every low lying spot in the garden. These G. nivalis (or some x valentinei mix) have been here for a few years though, and have never complained.

As usual we will see where this leads and for now I suspect it will lead to more flowers and I’m ready for that. So far the usual early bloomers are starting to move but with a random sprinkling of off-schedule bedmates for which I have less of an explanation for than I do for the weather. Regardless I think I need to begin the annual warnings for snowdrop overload as the normal level-headedness, modesty, and self-restrain leave my system and galanthaholism wields its ugly head. I no longer pretend that the state of my snowdrop thing is normal.

‘Ophelia’ is a warm day or two away from opening. She’s several years beyond dividing but that’s a lot more ‘Ophelia’ than I know what to do with!

So consider yourself warned. Other than a here-and-there winter garden update it’s all snowdrops, things which look well with snowdrops, weather which effects snowdrops, snowdrop visits and snowdrop events from here on out. Time to brush off the scroll button and fine tune the ‘Oh nice, Frank. That seems fun” comments for those of you who feel obligated.

‘Dick’s Early Yellow’ in the coldframe. I pulled the glass back so perhaps he will yellow up to a brighter color. Under glass yellows tend to lean more towards green.

Fun is what it should be. I’m hoping for another excellent season, and if you can join me in ignoring the multiple cases of bulb neglect (the coldframe for example should have been cleared out entirely in June), I think it should be an amusing time… even if the bulk of the fun is just seeing how far I’ve fallen 🙂

Oh No, Snow!

Jan6

Finally the news services have a cookbook story to run, with traditional tips on how to drive in snow, how to shop for snow, what to do when you’re trapped indoors, and maybe even a little about how much snow we will actually get. I may be showing my age, but I don’t think it sounds like as much as they’re making it out to be but I guess that’s boring and boring doesn’t trend. Better to make it into a catastrophe, a weather system gone wild, unsafe weather to fear or the tip of a weather conspiracy which big media is hiding from you but some random TikTok has exposed. Or it’s just going to snow. In winter. Like it always used to do but we are quick to forget.

Another interesting winter thing, Pachysandra procumbens is the North American version of the common Japanese pachysandra. A friend gave me this nicely marked form and I only paid attention to it this winter because another friend showed off his even better colored version.

I like snow, so I’m thrilled there’s going to be some and I have every intention of shoveling it and walking through it and embracing it. Nothing changes the garden as abruptly as a good snowfall and outside of a few brave snowdrops there’s been nothing new to see in the garden for weeks, so a change like this will be nice… until it melts… quickly… since it’s supposed to be nearly 50F the day after and then we’ll be back to winter-drab. But we’re already heading into January, and the longer range forecast shows nothing in the way of real cold so I believe we’ll see more snowdrops, the first winter aconites, and witch hazel blooming before the end of the month. It’s still winter but not like it used to be. Mid January will be here and the ground isn’t even frozen.

Galanthus ‘Faringdon Double’ has been the latest snowdrop to join the parade of winter bloomers. It’s been a sturdy grower for me, and I don’t think a few inches of snow will bother him at all.

Sure, maybe February will be cold, but I don’t think it will be. 2023 was the warmest year globally on record, -although someone argued that they didn’t swim much last summer so that must mean it maybe wasn’t-, but I’m going to argue that I have flowers coming up weeks earlier than normal and that’s more like last year than it is like anything else I’ve seen before, so let me continue to enjoy winter flowers.

Even though I do miss snow. At least we’ll have a day or two of it, so be safe and all the best for the weekend!

Countdown to Solstice

Dec21

The winter solstice approaches, the longest night of the year and the tipping point for earth as the Northern hemisphere begins to wobble its way back to a more full on exposure to the sun. Days will be getting longer and before you know it….

Well actually we still have an entire winter to face, the shift towards the sun takes a while and temperatures will still drop for another month or so until the increase in light exposure does its magic. In theory. Yesterday was winter and tonight as well, and looking at the forecast tonight might even drop as low as our average low for the day, which will be a first for the month, but beyond that it’s just warm and more warm.

A new snowdrop! Galanthus elwesii ‘Xmas’ has made a seasonable appearance and will be the closest thing to a white Christmas we see this year.

Right now I’m thrilled about the warmth and have been taking advantage of the open ground and diggable soil. Also I’ve been way too wound up about the snowdrops peaking out here and there as they poke up to consider the weather. I do a garden walkabout whenever it’s light enough, and with things in dormant mode there’s not much going on beyond a little poking and prodding to see who sprouted a tiny bit more, but imagine my surprise when I came across a new snowdrop in full bloom. A friend gave me a monster snowdrop bulb (Galanthus elwesii ‘Xmas’) and I should have known enough to be on the lookout around Christmas but it was still a shock to find it in full bloom this week. It’s a beauty. Quite similar to every other white snowdrop but so much more special, and it’s always amazing when something manages to pop up in this garden and escape my attention and prodding for so long.

‘Three Ships’ looking sad this year.

A snowdrop which hasn’t escaped my notice is another Christmas bloomer, ‘Three Ships’. It was doing so well for a few years until all of a sudden it wasn’t, and for at least three winters I keep hoping it will grow out of its slump but so far no luck. A neighboring drop is also in a slump and is possibly the source of the problem but as per my typical laziness I’m pulling a ‘thoughts and prayers’ and hoping something will change without me having to make a change. Maybe next summer I’ll finally make an adult decision and take action.

A freshly weeded and mulched snowdrop bed. It wasn’t intended as a snowdrop bed, but when a few more drops go in each year…

I may be waiting for the summer to save ‘Three Ships’ but the warm weather and emerging snowdrop noses have moved me to do a few bed cleanouts and some tidying up. I don’t have the luxury of heaps of nicely mulched autumn leaves for all of the beds, but I do have some well-done compost which works nearly as well, and having a few snowdrop beds cleaned and topped off seems like a nice way to go into the season. I guess being able to do this in December is great even though it takes twenty times longer since my body is into sitting around mode even more so than usual, and it also it doesn’t help when you actually break a sweat gardening in late December. It just seems wrong.

Christmas cookies will solve it though. I wished they solved everything but for this they work, and I hope you enjoy plenty of cookies, a wonderful solstice, and plenty of holiday celebrations as we round out the year.

Ins and Outs

Dec10

Today was a day of steady rain. It’s been in the forecast for several days so that’s no surprise and we’re getting maybe an inch or more before it changes over to snow in the wee hours of the night. Of course the kids are excited, somehow the word got out even though temperatures today and yesterday were downright balmy in the 50s so we will see what the morning brings. Today was all rain though, and definitely an indoors day, so I was a little smug in the fact I have a winter garden that I can retreat to.

This florist cyclamen followed me home back in mid-October and is still going strong two months later. They’re not as addicting as the more graceful hardy types, but I wouldn’t turn my back on another one or two 😉

The winter garden is unusually under control this year, and all I really needed to do was shuffle a few more-dormant things away from the light, and move a few more-active things closer. The succulents have dried out enough to qualify as dormant, but cuttings like geranium and fuchsia are rooting and starting to grow. It looks nice. If it’s a cold January I’m sure more will show up here.

In the outside garden the warm weather has brought on the last of the fall blooming snowdrops. This one, (Galanthus elwesii ssp monostictus ex Montrose…) is doing well although the intended backdrop of variegated sedge has been nibbled back by the bunnies.

The winter garden is nice today, but yesterday outside was great. I cleaned up a few more things, wandered, poked, and generally enjoyed a day in the sun rather than a day of cloudy, chilly gloom. The warmth opened up the fall snowdrops and encouraged winter blooming sorts such as ‘Mrs Macnamara’, ‘Faringdon Double’, and ‘Three Ships’ to start poking out and show their flower buds. I’m still amazed these plants can make a go of blooming in December here in Pa, even just a few years ago they’d be locked up in frozen soil until spring.

So we will see. Even if there is some snow on the ground in the morning there’s still not much in the way of cold for the next few days, so I shall enjoy it while it lasts. I hope December is going great for you as well.

Flying Through November

Nov15

I swear Halloween was yesterday yet here we are already two weeks into the next month. Usually autumn is the season of painfully slow decay and death, a ‘stick season’, but over the past few years I’ve been developing a new appreciation for all the optimistic plants which take the cooler temperatures and run with them. Cyclamen come to mind, Cyclamen hederifolium in particular, and when cyclamen come to mind Edgewood Gardens also comes to mind, and when you’re that far into it what better than to hop in the car for an early November visit the see the gardens in person and visit with Dr Lonsdale?

Outside the cyclamen were wrapping things up, but in the greenhouse the show was still going full throttle. What a rich range of colors in these potted Cyclamen hederifolium.

This Edgewood cyclamen visit was under the guise of meeting up with snowdrop crazies and spending an afternoon admiring the full-bloom show of thousands of autumn snowdrops, and that was exciting, but I forgot how nice the cyclamen can be. My mind was again buzzing with the idea of keeping even more cyclamen potted up and under cover, able to be appreciated in any kind of weather and easily rearranged and admired at eye level rather than on your knees. My own are doing well in a coldframe, but maybe a second or bigger coldframe is something to consider…

The flowers are a floral spectacle but the foliage patterns and shapes also hold their own. Narrow, marbled, purple-veined, pink-flushed… the variety is amazing.

I guess to be somewhat helpful I should mention that there are four fairly hardy cyclamen species which are somewhat easy to get a hold of and experiment with outdoors in the more Northerly zones. These are nearly all the fall-blooming Cyclamen hederifolium, but there is another fall-bloomer, C. cilicium, and there’s the early spring blooming C. coum, and the attractively evergreen, summer-blooming C. purpurascens. Of the four I believe C. purpurascens might be the hardiest with a zone 5 rating, but as with most plants, location and snow cover probably play a huge part in how well hardiness really plays out.

Only the best forms end up in pots in the greenhouse. Besides looking even better that way they also serve as mother-plants, hopefully setting seeds for the next generation of even better varieties.

Did I crack and add a new cyclamen? Of course, but strangely enough it was a non-hardy Cyclamen graecum which ended up in my hand. Why add any more carefree, outdoor varieties when you can add one which needs a frost-free spot all winter and protection from rain all summer and will quickly die if you mess up? Message me if you know the answer…

And did I mention there would also be snowdrops?

The greenhouse benches were packed with autumn-flowering snowdrops.

Okay, so maybe I was also excited about other things. There was excellent company for the afternoon and more snowdrops than one would think would flower in November. We spent quite some time looking and talking about snowdrops and plants in general. Not bad at all.

Even more snowdrops, this time in the afternoon glow of a lowering sun. Days like this always end much too quickly.

So again, in a weak attempt to be useful, most people are familiar with the early spring blooming types of snowdrops (Galanthus), but other species and forms exist. For this visit we were catching the down side of the Glanthus reginae-olgae season, but the peak of the G. bursanus season. From what I know they are both strictly fall-blooming species (ok, r-o does have a spring blooming subspecies…) but there are others which straddle the line. Galanthus elwesii is mostly spring-blooming, but there are a bunch which begin in the fall or early winter and quite a few of them were also showing on this visit…. plus some G. peshmenii and quite a few G. cilicius (which may not be hardy enough for most Northerners) and I guess that’s about it and I apologize for going on again.

The next generation of cyclamen. Just imagine the joy of potting up every. single. last. one. of these.

Did I crack and buy a new snowdrop? Strangely no. I’m just that responsible and frugal that I resisted completely. That and college visits have been happening, and apparently prices have gone up and between that and a home remodel I have decided I’m broke… or rather my wallet told me and I’ve only just now recently received the message.

Be fruitful and multiply! That’s what I whispered to this amazing combination of dark flowers and silvery foliage.

The reality of my own autumn snowdrop successes is another thing which poured cold water on my delusions of pregaming the winter snowdrop show. For as much as the hardiness and tenacity of fall blooming snowdrops has impressed me, the frequency of failure in these fall wonders has kept me from diving in too deep. A case in point is my amazing little clump of G. peshmenii (but probably really G reginae olgae) which over maybe six years had gone from a single bulb to at least nine flowers last year. This year it’s nothing. “going back” is the term I’ve heard for clumps which go from excellent to nearly dead in the span of a year, and I’m going to guess some bacteria or fungus got in there this summer and that’s why. Fortunately there are a few bits of foliage finally coming up, and I hope in another six years I might be back to 7 or eight blooms… unless these weak leaves are one last show just to say goodbye… in which case I hope they get a move on it because I’m not getting any younger.

A struggling Galanthus reginae olgae clump. Maybe there’s a rotted flower stalk visible which would indicate some kind of botrytis or stagonospora infection, but of course that doesn’t matter since I’m not ready to douse my plants with fungicides and will just hope for the best.

So my best clump has almost died out and to be honest every other snowdrop up already has been chewed to the ground by slugs. Silly me, I didn’t put slug pellets down, right? Well that’s because slugs are rarely a problem here so who would think to do that? At first I thought some ignorant bunny or bird was snipping off blooms, but after the fourth or fifth clump was wiped out I finally figured it out, and now I own my first box of slug pellets and I’m not afraid to use them.

Perhaps the giant deciduous leaves of Magnolia macrophylla aren’t a good pairing for fall snowdrops but G. elwesii ‘Barnes’ found a big enough gap to come up through.

So maybe the later fall snowdrops will have more success. The fall Galanthus elwesii are starting, and although they often suffer terribly from sudden blasts of arctic weather, they also seem to forgive and forget, unlike the G. reginae olgae which seem to hold a grudge and enjoy being spiteful. Even rotten, mushy leaves in January don’t necessarily mean death for the G. elwesii, they sometimes pop up the next fall as if they were just kidding about the being dead thing.

‘Hoggets Narrow’ is probably my favorite fall blooming Galanthus elwesii. I love the long form and the grace of the blooms, and even if he likes to die dramatically each year from some hard mid-winter freeze, he still comes up again in the fall. I’m pleased there are two blooms this year.

Sorry. This is probably all too much snowdrops for November so here’s the rest of the garden.

My first year with Ajania pacifica, a chrysanthemum relative from Eastern Asia. I’m looking forward to seeing it grow into a nice big clump of neat foliage and bright yellow November buttons.

Last blooms, changing foliage colors, and a billion end of year chores. We had our killing frost, and although it’s warmer again and will likely stay that way for a while I’ll probably need all that time to get even somewhere close to everything done.

I suddenly have evergreen structure for the winter. Tiny little nubbins have gained presence and with the grass still green it’s a nice view as everything else goes into hiding.

I did manage to finish the dirt moving. The dream was a November finish line and I was as shocked as anyone to see it really worked out. Things are too late to do much planting, but I’m dumping grass clippings over the bare soil and throwing down some grass seed to mix in and hopefully something comes up first thing next spring. If it does, it does, and I have too much cleanup to do to overthink it too much other than to remember how much grass I’ve weeded out of flower beds. Grass is my worst weed, so I can’t imagine having to try too hard to get it to grow on purpose.

Remember the tulips I dug? In a moment of revelation I realized planting tulips was more satisfying than seeding grass so why not just call it a new bed and stick the bulbs there?

Moving dirt is hard work and requires many rest breaks. During some of the rest breaks stupid ideas germinate, and before you know it you’re digging up a sad little boxwood hedge and framing out a new tulip bed and then you might as well frame up a new tropical bed or daylily farm while you’re at it. A useful fact is that November is pretty late to be carelessly ripping up boxwood and popping it in elsewhere but I’m sure you knew that just like I do, and I also know I shouldn’t still trim the boxwood since it will likely freezer-burn the fresh cuts when it gets cold, but how can I stand looking at a rollercoaster top of the hedge when it should be level? I guess it settled very unevenly after I replanted it last spring.

Here’s the question… the bare soil will become yet another bed, and I want to line it on one or two sides with boxwood. Too much? Or just a nice try at more winter interest?

So when is too much boxwood too much? Boxwood blights and boxwood caterpillars are going to reach this garden someday, but not today, and perhaps I should just have my fun while I can, but someday I can see regretting not being more proactive. To be clear, I’m really not adding anything, just moving hedge I already have but maybe I’m missing a chance to try something new.

Maybe crushing all these decisions into the last un-frozen weeks of 2023 is also not the best process, but I really need to clear out my spring calendar for snowdrops, so better to get this out of the way now. Oops, there’s that snowdrop thing again, sorry. I shall try to make it longer next time without mentioning them. Have a great week 😉

A Test

Oct29

I ran a little test here over the last few weeks, but before getting into that let’s just enjoy the 28 minutes of sun which coincided with the weekend and matched the glow of the final color on the dogwoods (Cornus florida).

hydrangea paniculata limelight fall color

The neighborhood dogwood trees are down to their final autumnal glow after first russeting up in September.

Actually (and as usual) these photos are from earlier in the week when nicer weather prevailed and we were able to enjoy some sunny and perhaps too-warm weather for the few minutes when I wasn’t stuck at work. It’s only now that I’m getting around to celebrating the glowing colors of this past week as I sit inside again, not due to work but due to the typical weekend rainy weather which is feeding the swap again with even more moisture. Whatever though, the plants carry on and I don’t remember the Hydrangea paniculatas ever showing so much pink before… and I’m contemplating maybe adding one more, something which is nice and late and intentionally turns pink each year. The ‘Vanilla Strawberry’ I gave to my mother in law could be a match, but it’s a little earlier than I’d like and because of that might go brown before the season wraps up.

Hydrangea by the street, also brighter than ever.

Speaking of the season wrapping up I just looked at the ten day, and it looks like frost might finally be on the way. We’ve had a mild October again, but it looks like November will come in with a light frost at least, and clear the way for tulip planting and final cleanups.

Aster laevis ‘Raydon’s Favorite?’ (Smooth Aster) is my best aster. It tolerates drought, blooms late, blooms long, and requires no work other than a chopping in half in June. It’s a star of the late autumn border.

Frost won’t be the worst thing. The garden starts to look uncomfortable once the leaves start falling and everything goes to sleep, but the marigolds are still going strong. A good frost moves everything along and puts the lingering things out of their misery while reminding the gardener that there’s a due date approaching for his project, and things need to wrap up before a solid freeze locks everything down.

I still haven’t found the perfect spot for this salvia, possibly a form of Salvia splendens van houttei, but it seems to enjoy a bit of shade to grow best around here. Cuttings have been taken again regardless and it always makes a nice show under the lights… even if it looks a bit cramped in there.

I guess this gardener is ok with an early November first frost. Tender things are mostly indoors and now just a few heavy pots remain to be considered. Having a few extra weeks to bring in pots two or three at a time is so much less stressful than running around the night before an early frost and making the hard decisions all at once.

The delphinum is a lingerer. From a decrepit, summer-weary husk a few perfect flowers are up and open. Had the gardener trimmed it down a few weeks ago, the husk might have been cheerier, but I’ll take this.

The downside to a lingering autumn is that the number of plants saved goes up with each frost-free week. Oh well. Have faith in me that I’m quite capable of killing things off with neglect during the winter 😉

The lingering autumn and on and off gloomy skies have the evening primrose (Oenothera biennis) open all day. It’s a lovely weed which fits in well with the verbena.

Besides the annual ‘to save or not to save’ questions there’s also the ever-too-long ongoing dirt moving projects. I’ve reached the point where backyard fill has reached the meadow, and I’m into the phase where fill is being graded down to the level of the meadow, and basically that means I’ve filled in as much as I wanted to and there’s an end in sight for this back part of the yard.

There’s almost enough level ground so that I can run a grass path from the house all the way back to the berm. That was an important thing back in the day, but as I look at it now I’m not sure why… maybe it was more work than it was worth…

If the back part of the yard is leveled and almost done, does that mean the hill of construction fill in the middle of the yard is gone? Haha, of course not! There’s still a nice bit sitting in the middle of the yard, just waiting for a poor soul to dig it all up and wheelbarrow it to other far reaches of the garden. The last few tons of dirt and rock are destined for the side of the yard, to level out along the fence and around the coldframe area, and hopefully provide a nice spot for the homeless camellia seedlings.

There’s only a little bit of the mountain left. We are almost at the two year mark for when the digging first began, and I am hoping for less strenuous days ahead.

So besides impending frost and ongoing earthmoving there’s still the small matter of a test. I really did have a point in that title and it refers to new lighting ambitions for the always expanding winter garden. We are going LED and moving on from the fluorescent shop lights which have served their time.

The product. Four foot LED shoplights from Harbor Freight. On sale for $43 but I see they’re up to $54 again, and that’s not in the budget for additional sets….

It seems like everyone has an opinion on using LED lights for raising plants, and I blame the basement growers of ‘medicinal’ crops for all this info and interest. There’s the science of specific wavelengths for the efficiency of photosynthesis but then there’s an avalanche of weakly proven theories on what’s best for what kind of growth and how ideal certain setups are and and and…. I tried to follow along but after numerous attempts came to the conclusion that LED lights specifically for plants were far outside my budget, plus many were a pinkish sort of light, and even with the current mania for Barbie and pink, I was not down with that. I finally stumbled across someone with some growing experience who stated that general LEDs, although they don’t emit light at the wavelengths specifically matching the preferred wavelengths for chlorophyll peak efficiency, emit light which is good enough for the range, and with that in mind just get something bright enough. So that’s what I did. The price and brightness were there but my confidence wasn’t, so I decided that a simple test might be a good idea before full commitment.

Corn, arugula, and calendula seedlings grown under LED (left) and fluorescent (right). If anything the LED seedlings look better, if not at least they’re on par with results from the old system.

The test was a few pots with corn, arugula, and calendula seedlings sown and grown completely under the two light sources. It was an experimental setup which would make a real scientist cringe, but conditions were mostly similar for both lights and they were just a few feet apart in my garage workshop but not close enough to overlap. Without making too much of the results it looks like the LED worked just fine in growing the seedlings. The corn was indifferent but the arugula and calendula actually seemed to grow faster and more strongly than the Fluorescent plants. I’d show the calendula but of course a slug found the pot and trimmed them back to the size of the other pot before said slug was dispatched. I guess I shall consider that when analyzing my experimental error.

Snowdrops? Yes! It’s that time of year again and Galanthus bursanus is leading the way. Please ignore the slug damage, I first blamed rabbits but when all the rest of the blooms disappeared with near surgical precision I think the bunnies are innocent for once and slugs are the true culprits.

That’s the first of what will surely become too many photos of snowdrops, but I’m sure you knew that. There should be more, but in addition to slugs hitchhiking their way into the winter garden they’ve been extremely active in the garden and have mowed down more than their share of the earliest of the autumn flowering snowdrops. Snowdrops in the fall is a new thing for me, I never thought is could be an option this far North, but with every winter less enthusiastic than the last it’s becoming a possibility. I just have to figure out how to grow them. They survive, but there’s still something (other than slug attacks) which doesn’t let them grow as well as the others already here. Don’t you worry though, rather than discouraged I’m even more enthusiastic about them and just keep trying them in new spots until they find something to their liking!

Hopefully we all find something to our liking. Have a great week!

sorta like suburbia

more than you ever wanted to know about my garden

Category Archives: snowdrops