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!

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!

sorta like suburbia

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Category Archives: snowdrops