More Fall

Oct24

Who would have thought but this autumn continues to be a somewhat pleasant experience (pandemics notwithstanding), and we are enjoying a fairly warm October. Warmth in October is nice. People like warm fall days. I on the other hand wouldn’t mind a little more cold.

A hanging baskets was emptied to provide a spot for some of the gourd harvest.

Dried leaves and dead stalks, with pollen and fluff and dust blowing all over are not doing my sinuses any favors so my latest excuse for sleepy laziness is my allergies. Even with a congested head and squinty eyes though, out in the garden is where I’d like to be and in spite of it all I did manage to get a few things done. First of all I power washed. When I told my mom how I’d power washed the birch trees, at first she couldn’t make sense of what I was saying, so I explained how they were looking a little dingy and algae-coated and in need of a wash but that didn’t help. ” I think I could have thought of better things to do” was her response, so I told her I washed the car afterwards and left out how I first cleaned the stone sides of the new coldframe and then we moved on to other topics.

I apologize to every weekend warrior who will now feel the need to power wash their birch clumps, but they do look much nicer.

That took a lot out of me so I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting around enjoying the glow of the fall foliage.

From the right angle I can enjoy the fall color without seeing the dozens of potted plants which still need to come in…

The next few days didn’t see much more in the way of questionable productivity. I’ve been obsessing about chrysanthemums after all, and how can you think of overwintering potted porch plants when there are mums in full autumnal splendor!?

The chrysanthemum bed is now officially in full bloom. Two beds would be nicer, but even one looks quite extravagant.

I don’t care about mums in May, but fortunately this year I still managed to plant these out and even added in a few seedlings which survived my springtime neglect.

This pink seedling will be nice if it proves hardy. Unfortunately the rest of this year’s crop is kinda boring.

The seedlings are fun, but the staking and fussing that went into caring for my last surviving football mum has really paid off. All I do is stare at it and wish I had more.

The amazing orange blooms of ‘Cheerleader’ tower over the others.

‘Cheerleader’ is about 3 or four feet tall even after an early spring pinching. She requires strong wooden stakes and I even went as far as to disbud a few stems to see if the main flower would turn out nicer. I think they did. Hopefully next year I can repeat this.

I did manage to cut a few for the house, but most are being enjoyed in situ.

While I contemplate a new career in raising fancy show chrysanthemums, and consider a roadtrip down to the Longwood chrysanthemum show (which goes until Nov 22), I do want to point out a small project I did manage to finish up this week. It’s a new raised bed, one made out of cement blocks and hopefully one which outlasts the wooden ones.

Concrete blocks on end, the whole thing held together with metal strapping.

Honestly I should have just stuck with the wooden theme, but I had an idea and that idea might be worth a try if it meant not having to replace every last bed in a dozen years. In the meantime I just hope no one looks too closely at my credit card receipts and questions just how much was spent on a 1/2″ steel strapping kit. Let’s run a quick distraction with some nice photos of wonderful fall bulbs.

A surprise flower on the non hardy Bessera elegans. It’s just one more potful which has to still come in for the winter.

Just the fact the Bessera is alive is amazing and that it’s still sending up a bloom or two after flowering earlier in the summer is also a shock since I had given them up for dead months ago. Actually it wasn’t so much giving up than it was throwing them into the furnace room back in the fall of 2018 and then just being too lazy to pull them out the next spring. So they sat. Bone dry. For six months. Then ten…. then twelve… then sixteen… Finally a year and a half later I went back there looking for emergency potting soil and found the pot. I was shocked (and a little annoyed, since I really needed more potting soil) to find a pot full of perfectly healthy corms, no worse than the day I put them back there. Out onto the sidewalk they went, and one April shower later they were all sprouting.

A very elegant autumn blooming snowdrop (Galanthus bursanus). You can probably guess just how often I check on this newest pet.

The bessera is a summer bulb, but autumn snowdrops represent a new season, and by that I mean winter. I love seeing them coming up and from now until next March it’s snowdrop season. Sure it slows down a bit in January, but for the last few years that slowdown is only a few days and not the usual months long lockdown of cold and ice that we used to endure. I guess a global climate disaster can have a bright side if you look hard enough.

Galanthus peshmenii? I believe not, if only because the “are you sure?” backup peshmenii I bought is living up to its reputation and slowly fading away while this one gets better each year.

Did I mention how much I paid for the latest snowdrops? Of course not, and I won’t. By now I know better than to put things like snowdrops on anything which produces a receipt. Explaining away a 1/2″ steel strapping kit produces a bored look but when I try to justify the excitement over an expensive little bulb, all I get is that judgemental eye roll.

Have a great weekend, and for those who are curious I followed some tips for finding a backdoor to the old WordPress editor, and it’s made my blogging life tolerable once again.

A New Season

Mar15

Last weekend was David Culp’s Galanthus Gala. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and the flood of friends and early season plants and rare goodies that filled the Downingtown Friends Meetinghouse were a treat as the new garden season begins to rev up. What a difference a few days makes. I’m sure you see the news so I won’t rehash, but I just want to wish all my friends the best and hope they stay healthy and safe.

Cyclamen coum doing better than ever thanks to the relatively mild winter. Over the last year about half the plantings here disappeared as a result of wet and rot, but this cyclamen is spectacular.

In just a few days spring has arrived and fortunately it’s a white fever which has infected this gardener. Eleven years of planting and tending is finally starting to pay off, and the tiny handfuls of begged bulbs and lonely singletons are becoming puddles and pools. I finally have hope that there will one day be a sheet of snowdrop white in this garden, maybe not a California King sheet, but possibly a twin, and that’s excellent enough for me.

My first handful of snowdrops is up for some more division this year. I believe it’s a nivalis x elwesii cross.

The non-winter has been a new experience, with some things up early and others holding back. Restraint payed off for those who held back, since there were a couple harsh nights in February, but for the most part the garden has escaped the usual damage associated with gambling on a winter garden in zone 6.

Some drops had their tender stems turn to mush when temperatures dropped into the single digits, but over the years I’m learning who these tender drops are, and am moving them to more sheltered spots.

With the right attitude the good always outweighs the bad, and I like to think there’s a lot of good. New snowdrops are good, and I can’t believe I have ‘E.A. Bowles’ in the garden this year. I love it. When I first saw this drop five years ago on a visit to Hitch Lyman’s Temple Garden, I thought for sure it would be many years before I would have a chance at it, but here it is.

‘E.A. Bowles’, a pure white snowdrop which has replaced the three short inners with another set of pure white outers.

So now I shall continue with way more snowdrop pictures than good company should have to endure. You are more than welcome to scroll down to the end and I won’t take a bit of offense 🙂

Another newer to me drop, galanthus ‘moortown’. Thumbs up for me on these big blooms with a strong mark that bleeds up.

Only a few drops here can claim to be new and exciting. They might seem that way to me but fancier people will turn their noses up at the plain white and green things I’m obsessing about. No problem I say. Social distancing is so much easier around here when your day revolves around tiny green markings on a tiny white flower.

I’m not sure who Alan is, but here’s galanthus ‘Alan’s Long Ovary’ looking nice with a growing clump of ‘Winifrede Mathias’ in the background.

Before anyone gets the wrong impression, let me again clearly state that my garden is not as impressive as closeups and heavily cropped photos might imply. Snowdrops are tiny, and one drop does not a garden make, so I think I still have plenty of time to consider charter bus parking and garden visitor handouts.

A blank lawn is slowly giving way to planting beds and a garden design. This is the bulk of my snowdrop garden, and notice that the glare of white is still far from overwhelming.

Even without visitors it’s a fun obsession. It makes the next few weeks less painful as we shelter in place and face the waiting game.

A late galanthus ‘Kew Green’ backed up by an early hellebore. I like when the drops open alongside other spring color.

Hopefully the garden is enough to wear me out and keep me safe from online plant shopping. February has already seen magnolia and “hardy” camellia purchases and there’s no plans to where any of it will go, so if we stop there it’s probably a good thing.

A souvenir snowdrop from another Temple Gardens visit, galanthus ‘Greenish’. It was beautiful in the gardens and I was thrilled to see it for sale at the exit.

There’s plenty to do without adding anything new, so let me remind myself of that.

Rocks thrown down for a new (and yet unfinished) bed edging have kept the rabbits away from the crocus they normally destroy. I wonder if I can expand on this idea…

Moving plants comes first. In the earliest days of spring I can pop stuff up and plop it elsewhere without water or worry and that’s perfect for the laziest of gardeners. Today I shall finish the snowdrops and begin shrubs… according to the plan I never follow…

One of my favorites, galanthus ‘Sutton Courtney’ with a few tommy crocus behind. Fyi the snowdrops still looked nice a few hours later after the bunnies ate all the crocus.

Hope these days treat you well and you’re able to find your own retreat in the garden.

Darn Leap Year

Mar2

Even though most of the long range forecasts hinted at a shift to colder weather, I’m 99% sure it’s because of the leap year. I haven’t filled in all the gaps in my new theory but Saturday was much colder than I think we deserved and I bet it would have been a much nicer day if it were March 1st rather than February 29th…. unless that’s not the case. Come to think of it February wasn’t all that bad this year, with a couple days in the 50’s and plenty in the 40’s to counteract the odd 4 degree night. Much warmer than normal and practically snow-free, and that made for some wonderfully early snowdrop visits.

‘Rodmarton Arcturus’ to the left of ‘Rodmarton Regulus’. Two stand out snowdrops in a stand out NY snowdrop collection.

First on the list was a visit to an open garden on Long Island NY. I was in the area to visit my parents and with beautiful sunshine and warm weather in the forecast it just made sense to drag mom out to look at drops. Dad has learned his lesson on previous colder visits so he wisely stayed home, but even he would have enjoyed the location and warmth.

The garden’s host leading a group around to admire the drops.

This is the same garden my friend Paula and I visited last year (nearly a month later btw), and this visit made me realize how spoiled were were the first time. We had our host nearly all to ourselves that time, and all the stories and tips and conversation made the time fly by too quickly. This time even though we had to share him with the other groups flowing through, we were still able to catch a glimpse of several treasures and check out what the new season brought.

Galanthus ‘Joe Spotted’ was looking much finer than my overexposed photos show. Pity that we were forced to endure such strong sunshine and warm breezes during our visit.

This garden has clump after clump of rare and special snowdrops, so it takes a while to inch through the plantings, but as we got around to the end the healthy clumps of “wild” ‘viridapice’ scattered all through the hedges and shrubbery reminded me that the tried and true also has incredible value.

Patches of Galanthus ‘Viridipice’ around the garden’s edges.

Come to think of it I may have to order a few more ‘viridapice’ this year when I send in my wish list. Earlier orders are well on their way to clumping up here and if you’d like to do the same, check under sources on my snowdrop page for the owner’s email address.

It’s a shame to be less than a mile from the ocean and not stop by. I miss the winter beach.

For as pleasant and warm as our February snowdrop visit was, the fake February visit I made yesterday was a far different experience. On a day which should have been March I set off to the Philly area to meet with my friend Paula for our traditional snowdrop tour. Cold it was. And windy. It was ridiculous to stand out in the wind and cold for nearly three hours but we did, and I’m not sure who was to blame.

The garden looked March-ish with witch hazels, snowdrops, and hellebores. The green of winter aconite looked awfully fresh for a day hovering just above freezing.

Normally Paula and I have much more adventurous spring snowdrop agendas but this year she abandoned me to take on a big overseas adventure in the UK amongst more ancient and vast snowdrop gardens. Just catching up on that alone took most of the afternoon!

Spring snowflakes (Leucojum vernum) and some yellow winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) carpet the mossy ground under the central cherry tree.

The garden was filled with enough other distractions to compete with the trip stories. Snowdrops are nice but the hellebores were also coming up all over, and the mix of colors made me grateful there are plenty of fantastic gardens on this side of the Atlantic as well.

A real winter garden with awesome hellebores and snowdrops seeding and sprouting everywhere.

I also had an experience which shook me a bit. There’s a leafy evergreen perennial called the Japanese sacred lily (Rohdea japonica) and although some people go absolutely nuts for them, paying thousands of dollars for special forms, I have remained entirely immune to any desire to grow them. Then I saw Paula’s. It was kinda nice.

More snowdrops and hellebores plus a nice clump of Rohdea japonica. Hmmmm.

I’ll have to be careful the next time I’m around Edgewood Gardens. John Lonsdale has a nice variety of them scattered across his hillside and what harm could a second look do, but in the meantime let’s think about cheaper plants. Galanthus worowonii is a species snowdrop which can be had for a few bucks a bag and in general is nice enough, but not much of a bloomer for me. Then I saw a nice bunch at Paula’s. Out of all the many goodies this is the one I was interested in, and I think you’ll see why.

A good blooming, nicely formed Galanthus woronowii on the right, and a regular one on the left. As you would expect most of what I have in my garden are leafy and floppy like the ones on the left.

So now I’m thinking of more unnecessary plants to try, Might as well add another. Winter jasmine (Jasmine nudiflorum) is a floppy, messy, wanna-be shrub that sometimes identifies as a vine. Don’t be fooled into thinking it’s as fragrant as its cousins (it’s not), but it is a surprisingly floriferous late winter bloomer that doesn’t mind freezing more than it thaws. I see it listed as hardy to zone 6, so I may poke a stem in here (it roots easily wherever a stem touches down) and give it a global warming try.

Winter jasmine artfully slung over the perfect boulder. I’m sure it takes a little trimming to keep in check, but the effect is worth it.

Hmmmm. It seems like I’ve mentioned quite a few new things to try out this year, and there have only been two garden visits so far. Luckily it’s March and even though the month is a day late in coming, flipping the calendar means one really important thing which you may or may not know about. It’s the month of official snowdrop events, and next Saturday, March 7th is David Culp’s Galanthus Gala. From 10-3 Downington Pa shall transform into the epicenter of rare snowdrop sales, hellebore offerings, uncommon plants, and a celebration of all types of plant nerdery in general. Alan Street of Avon Bulbs will be offering two lectures and I suspect many plants will find new homes that day. Admission is free, but pre-sale entry and the lectures will require ticket purchase. All the cool kids will be there and hopefully I can sneak in as well.

Hope you have an excellent week. March does have its benefits, and hopefully one of them is warming temperatures. Not an insignificant point since it took me about 8 hours to warm up again after trying to pull off a garden visit in Fake February.

A Touch of Spring

Feb7

Early February is not spring but the plants don’t seem to know, and even if the weather has drifted cooler since these photos were taken, it’s still an unusually mild “winter”.

The first winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) have opened. These are a pale yellow version which is always a bit earlier than the straight species.

Although the days are getting noticeably longer we’re still just barely into the upswing of winter. It takes a while to shift from cooling to warming and these should still be some of the coldest days of the winter, but they’re not, and the weird season has some plants behaving oddly. Some are ahead, some are unconvinced, and others still think it’s fall.

Up and blooming earlier than ever, these giant snowdrops (Galanthus elwesii) are showing a bit of green on tips which have never shown green before. In 14 years of growing this one, I think I would have noticed.

In the end it’s out of my control so no sense in too much hand wringing. Saturday morning I threw on a sweatshirt, pulled out the hedge trimmers, chopped down and raked out the front bed, mowed it all up, threw it back on to the bed and called it ready to go for 2020. Spring cleanup before getting any advice from the groundhog is unprecedented but the spring bulbs do need a clean slate to show off against!

Not the neatest look, but by May it will look fine and I’m sure I’ll find plenty of other things to do now that spring cleanup here is complete!

It was a slow start. A head cold had me second guessing the work, and the weeks of couch sitting didn’t exactly have me feeling any younger, but it was nice to finally burn off a few Christmas cookies. That and there were snowdrops to enjoy 🙂

Galanthus ‘Godfrey Owen’ is usually up and blooming during our first warm spell. It’s a favorite of course.

So now begins the usual forecast watching which has me worrying about every ice storm and polar blast which could stomp these early joys. Fingers crossed it’s not the usual flower frying blast in March and instead is a gentle and gradual warming that encourages the most amazing show of spring bloom that we have ever experienced. One can hope. If all else fails I’d like just one sunny dry perfect day to enjoy the drops. Having it happen on a Saturday wouldn’t hurt either 😉

You Call That A Cleanup?

Jan27

So here we are in late January and winter still hasn’t put up much of a fight. I fought the urge last time and took the Christmas lights down instead, but this weekend’s rain and above freezing weather was too much and it broke me down. The snowdrops are coming up all over the front foundation beds and of course I need to see them clearly… plus the ski season stinks.

This is the after picture, and is probably as good as cleanup gets for this bed. The keenest eyes may spot a few snowdrops 🙂

I have a tendency to do my spring cleanups early but this winter you barely know if it’s a really late fall job or if this already qualifies as spring. Time will tell. One thing you can be sure of is that my need to tidy up every last stray leaf and twig has evaporated as I get older. Older and wiser maybe? The leaves disappear quickly as new sprouts come up and hide them, and they’re small enough that they break down into the soil again before summer is too far along. If they were bigger and tougher leaves like oak or sycamore I’d rake them off and run over them with the mower before throwing them back on the beds, but they’re not and that makes for a quick tidying up. The twigs and stems and cut back hellebore leaves were carted off to the back yard, I didn’t want to attract too much attention running them through the mower in January since I just recently made fun of my neighbor for doing the same.

Verbena bonariensis and lettuce seedlings, both surviving the cold just fine. It will be interesting to see what all makes it through the winter this year… assuming we don’t get slammed in March.

Maybe I’ll run all the trimmings through the mower in February. The ten day forecast shows a dip in to the teens and then another warming trend through Groundhog Day and beyond, so early February doesn’t look any more promising for snowy slopes than January was. I’ll try to cope 😉

Fake News!

Jan19

Spring arrived last week. There it was right in front of me, the thermometer was roaring to the top and everyone was thrilled by the high numbers. Records keep breaking and coats were thrown aside as ridiculously overcautious and we embraced the sun. Surely that weak, orange sun was the reason things were so warm.

Galanthus ‘Potters Pride’, typically in bloom for the end of November Thanksgiving table, has only now been coaxed out of the ground.

The neighborhood was bustling. Nearly everybody had a job as garages were swept and litter was cleared and the last of the holiday decorations were secured. It sure looked good. My brother in Law even pulled out the leaf blower and cleared all the riff-raff which had blown in while our backs were turned. Back into the woods it went, and a quick round with the lawnmower has everything returned to that bland, uniform, suburban look which all my neighbors seem to love.

Nothing like a freshly cut lawn in January. Mid January. In Northern Pennsylvania. For those who have let the 63F (17C) high get to our heads, our normal lows for this time of year should be closer to 17F (-8C).

The last three months have been filled with erratic ups and downs, but the ups are all we care about. I have snowdrops sprouting and in full bloom outside and it’s the middle of January and that must be good.

Galanthus ‘Three Ships’ up and blooming last week. Although ‘Three Ships’ hails from milder climates and is known for its Yuletide arrival, here in the colder zones it struggle to reach port by the end of January in a “normal” winter.

But in spite of the early sprouts and premature color something still feels wrong. The sun keeps claiming it’s perfect, and he deserves all the credit for this unusual warmth but most everyone else can see it’s near the lowest point of its year. I wish my plants would check this out, but no they just keep fixating on these temperature numbers. Who cares about tomorrow.

The first of the witch hazels to open here is Hamamelis ‘pallida’. Full bloom and it’s about a month early.

Oh well. When it gets cold I’ll just shelter in place and ride it out. As usual the weather will take out the most vulnerable and either kill them outright or set them back for a few years, but it happens and in spite of warnings the plants never learn.

I’ll protect my favorites though. Some plants just agree with everything I do and even if I’m the most incompetent gardener they always make me either feel good or look like I’m winning. Right now with colder weather and snow briefly returning it’s the winter garden that’s got all the good stuff.

The Cyclamen coum growing under lights are starting their show. Hardy enough to survive outdoors I just like keeping a few inside to enjoy.

My winter garden in the garage is a nice escape from the real world. Under the fluorescent shop lights I have a few plants pretending they’re not part of this Pennsylvania garden and also a few that are just too tender to make it on their own. This year’s wunderkind is the pot of galanthus seedlings I have coming up. A friend gave me the seed last winter and although a few sprouted then, the bulk have waited until now to start coming up. Realistically they would be better off in the garden, but here I can admire them endlessly and imagine the hundreds of blooms which are sure to follow… in three or four years… assuming I don’t kill them… just like I’ve killed all the others…

Snowdrop seedlings. They still have a long way to go but just think of the possibilities!

I’ve been off my seed-starting kick for a few years now but stuff like this is still irresistible. There’s so much variability in these seed grown bulbs that I’m excited just thinking about what could be. I guess that’s what optimism looks like when the nights are still so long, since there’s still bound to be a three year wait at least. In the meantime three years can pass quickly, and three years ago I started some narcissus seed, and three years later I have a bloom!

Some type of hoop petticoat daffodil. The seed were labeled as narcissus romieuxii something-something but they’re not the pale yellow I was expecting, so I’m not committing to a full name yet.

Non-hardy daffodils growing under lights is practically a gateway drug to greenhouse thoughts, so fortunately I don’t have much access to more seed but in these unsettled times you never know. An offer for more seeds would be much better news than what usually shows up.

In the meantime this winter could end up anywhere. History shows that these fake warmups always end up badly but maybe I should just hide out in the winter garden and hope for the best. Maybe this time we’ll only get the tornado rather than the tornado, hail and lightning storm.

December Arrives

Dec1

A stroll in the garden last Thursday reveled only one thing. It’s boring. Boring is probably not the worst thing since there have been tours which brought on anger, apathy, or disgust, but the tour did not bring on wonder or excitement, and for me that daily change or new surprise is what makes the yard so interesting.

The hardy cyclamen (this one is Cyclamen hederifolium) is pretty exciting now that the foliage is up, but I’ve seen it all before, and should really give a few of the cool new seedlings some room to develop.

I suppose I could find something to do and give the garden a scorched earth cleanup, rounding up every stray leaf and eliminating every dead and dried stalk, but that’s even more boring. The birds will need something to pick through, and in January a few old seedheads holding the snow will give a little more interest to otherwise dull drifts. So instead I cut and placed a few chicken wire cages to protect the most treasured shrubs from their annual bunny shearing.

Previously the rabbits around here were as lazy as I am, and if they had to even push aside a tuft of grass to get to a carrot they wouldn’t bother. But now they’ve become empowered, and I have to protect things like this ‘Diane’ witch hazel with these attractive wire cages.

My friend Kathy was right. Deer may not like witch hazels, but bunnies do, and if you’re thinking good for me to put this protection in place before any real damage occurs, you’re being excessively optimistic in regards to my laziness. The new witch hazels should have been caged up weeks ago as more tender things in the garden dried up, but no, it wasn’t until the first one was nipped off at four inches that I figured it was time. Fast forward another week when the second hazel was nipped to the ground that I finally got moving.

One last succulent has earned its right to a winter spent inside. After Echeveria runyonii ‘Topsy Turvy’ survived a few heavy frosts and downright freezes I could no longer turn my back on the pot and into the garage it came. I wonder just how hardy this thing really is?

I actually did find one bit of excitement while planting some not-really-wanted colchicums (they were supposed to be white… not pink). The excitement wasn’t the tulip bulbs I sliced through when digging a hole, the excitement was a stray snowdrop in full bloom in a spot where I’ve only ever planted spring varieties.

A November snowdrop. Two years after planting bulk Galanthus elwesii here, this one decides to beat the neighbors and open a few months and a whole season early. I’ll be curious to see what it thinks next year.

Not to end on a down note, but this little November snowdrop is now encased (hopefully not entombed) in ice just waiting for the first larger snowfall of the season to happen. I’d show pictures but would prefer to keep this a family friendly blog and will instead show a photo from the Thanksgiving trip which the impending storm cut short.

Deer along the beach of the Long Island Sound. The wide open blue skies of the beach always recharge my outdoor batteries in a way the woodsy mountains and valleys of Pennsylvania don’t.

Things can’t be all that bad when you’re cozy inside and the weather happens on the other side of the window, so I can’t complain, but what ever storms come your way I hope they’re easy on your neck of the woods, and even if they’re snowy, I hope you have a great week!

The New Kid on the Block

Nov25

I don’t even try and hide the snowdrop obsession anymore. Today it feels like all the plants and yardwork of the summer months are just a weak effort to cover up my addiction and to bide my time until cooler months return and snowdrop season kicks back in. As proof I will confess to driving two hours last weekend to meet up with a few equally crazed friends in the greenhouses of John Lonsdale’s Edgewood Gardens, for the sole purpose of seeing the autumn blooming snowdrops in full flower. Looking back it was an excellent choice.

Introducing Galanthus bursanus, a fall blooming surprise with big flowers, multiple bloom stalks, winter foliage, and typically two marks on the inner petals.

Spring and even winter blooming snowdrops can go a long way in easing the pain of a brutal winter, but fall blooming snowdrops make an excellent opener to a slow to arrive season. Shorter days and colder nights may sap your enthusiasm, but to see a few optimistic sprouts and pristine flowers, the gardener is reminded that the natural world is already getting started on next year.

Most of the Galanthus bursanus were big plants with large flowers, but the range and variety was outstanding with both big and tiny represented.

The highlight of this trip was to see in person a fall blooming snowdrop species which has only just been officially named and described by science. But gardeners rarely wait for things to be official and for years Galanthus bursanus has been making the rounds as a maybe species or maybe subspecies. Finally it’s official. This rare little gem from a small population outside the city of Bursa, Turkey is no longer an odd fall-blooming G. plicatus or unusual G. reginae-olgae, it’s a whole new species… one which to the joy of snowdrop lovers is easy to grow and stands out amongst all the others.

Of course as with all snowdrops, a few selections have already been made including this unusual bloomer… which I loved but others were lukewarm towards.

Of course hundreds of seedlings are already in the works, and since John Lonsdale has a way with these things many of the seedlings have reached blooming size and are now being grown on to see just how special the most special are . Hopefully in another year or two as all these seedlings hit the pipeline I can crack the wallet open for a couple offsets and give this one a try in my own garden!

Another beautiful form of Galanthus bursanus in front with a G. reginae olgae (one mark, typically flowers without foliage present) behind.

In the meantime, out of thousands of of little pots, there were plenty of other things to admire and to talk about. Other autumn snowdrops were either at their peak or just starting to open, and the variety represented in all those seed grown plants is just amazing.

Fall blooming seedlings of Galanthus elwesii var. monostictus, all selected for showing a good bit of green to their outer petals.

And then there were cyclamen. Maybe even more cyclamen than snowdrops. The cyclamen were either just coming off their peak bloom or just starting to put out their winter foliage. I again resisted bringing home more of the borderline hardy species, but the winter garden needed some new Cyclamen hederifolium and faced with such a wide range to choose from, my wallet left this visit with a noticeably thinner waistline.

A few of the cyclamen mother plants, all coming into growth for the winter.

I spent this morning repotting my new treasures. They didn’t need it, but I like to check out the roots and get them into the same soil that the rest of my cyclamen are in, if only so that all my pots dry out around the same time and all the plants are in the same boat… and can all sink or sail together.

A less hardy species, Cyclamen maritimum has both exceptional leaves as well as masses of flowers (after several weeks in flower these are the last few lingering blooms)

Snowdrops in bloom, a visit with friends, and delicious new plants. I can’t complain, and I’m kind of excited for the upcoming winter garden season. The new cyclamen already have me down there on a daily basis, and I’m quite motivated and cleaning things up, organizing and re-arranging, and just plain old admiring the goodies.

It still doesn’t mean I’m hoping for a long winter though…

Snowdropping 2019

Mar22

Better late than never… and although Paula and I did meet up for a February greenhouse tour of snowdrops, that visit was a far cry from our traditional all-day snowdrop adventure. Fortunately we were able to get one in. This trip was a check off the bucket list, and it involved a four hour drive in a completely different direction, with us getting out of the car just short of the Eastern tip of Long Island, NY. Understandably my wife told us several times we were crazy (although she did use slightly different terms).

Treasures tucked in under the shade of a southern magnolia. Galanthus ‘David Baker’ sits next to what I think is a golden variegated sweet flag (Acoris gramineus ‘Ogon’).

We had been hoping to visit this garden for a few years now, and the more sane version started with me heading East for a visit with my parents, Paula driving out the night before, a one hour ride to the garden in the morning, and then wherever the weekend leads after that. Of course other obligations interfered and once again the plan didn’t work out, but our host was exceptionally accommodating and so was the weather, so tally-ho!

Snowdrops were peppered everywhere in this mostly sunny garden. Our host kind of confessed he’s pushing several hundred cultivars, so ‘everywhere’ does end up being a necessity!

This was the garden of a true galanthomaniac but still remarkably balanced. Roses, perennials, evergreen plantings, interest for all seasons but still space for tons of galanthus!

Not the best photo, but I do like galanthus ‘Green Tip Richard Ayres’. I like it a lot.

This is a garden where the majority of snowdrops were planted in pond pots, a plastic mesh pot used for aquatic plants, but also embraced by serious snowdrop growers as a way to cram tons of cultivars into a small plot yet still be able to lift and divide and find bulbs easily. Even when the dormant bulbs show nothing above ground. It makes a lot of sense and the results do speak for themselves.

galanthus godfrey owen lady beatrix stanley little ben

The shade of conifers is usually not good at all for spring bulbs, but on the edge of a sunny lawn with just a few sheltering boughs above, galanthus ‘Godfrey Owen’, ‘Lady Beatrix Stanley’, ‘Little Ben’ and others, are all quite happy.

Although I won’t use the word obsessive, this is absolutely a collector’s garden with a careful inventory and organized labeling and placing. You kind of need that when the numbers start adding up. The plantings may appear to spread casually throughout the garden but you will notice (even faster when your host points it out) that there’s another brilliant quirk of order. From one area to the next, all the plantings are organized alphabetically. ‘Dodo Norton’ follows ‘Danube Star’ while ‘Dracott Greentip’ sits just to the right. It would make an OCD heart sing 🙂

Galanthus ‘Natalie Garton’ (aka ‘Chris Sanders’) soaking up the March sun at the edge of the rose garden. Note the brown label off to the right, that’s our host’s sign that this clump is marked for digging, dividing, and sale(!) this summer.

I’m going to guess that years ago this gardener realized that when collecting, you can only really hold on to so many of any given cultivar. You can also only trade and give away so many, so for several years our host has taken to offering a few (actually quite a few) each year for sale. I’m going to foolishly direct you to >my snowdrop page< for contact information (scroll down about halfway to ‘snowdrop sources’ and you’ll see him listed by name)… although the selfish side of me is hoping you don’t beat me out to my favorites, and leave me with the leftovers since it sells out fast. While you’re requesting a list you may also wish to ask him about getting email updates from his annual UK trip each spring. It’s a fun narrative of an A list of snowdrop events and personalities from overseas, and will help you steel through the last few weeks until our own season takes off.

Round the house another garden filled with snowdrops 😉

I’m sparing you from most of the endless stream of individual photos, but there was one more snowdrop which really stood out for me. Under the pergola a monster clump of elwesii caught my eye even from across the garden. Well over a foot high, with wonderfully large flowers that still held a classic grace, this was one more snowdrop for my growing list of favorites. I don’t know what the plans are for this one, but I made sure to drop plenty of hints that I’d like to be on the waiting list!

Galanthus elwesii under the pergola. Sorry about the lighting, but as you know I’m more enthusiastic than skilled.

I hope I pre-warned our host sufficiently that we would surely overstay our welcome, but even after two hours plus of garden wandering he still graciously extended us an invitation for tea.

Our host wisely excused himself midway to get some inventorying done while we photographed, but we found him anyway and the warm shelter of the juniper hedge made for a perfect spot to enjoy snowdrops and sun while talking galanthus.

I love a late winter garden visit where the sun is strong and the lawn is dry, and it’s ok to just sit there and take it all in. Of course the close up quarters to so many snowdrops added a few more favorites to the list, but what I really enjoy is hearing the stories and getting the advice and coming up with new plans. We were really spoiled on this trip 🙂

Ok. One more, Galanthus ‘Bernard Rohlich’. Note the brown label, hopefully my budget can handle this one!

So finally it was inside for tea, which we probably overstayed as well, and then out the door. Our host was still kind enough to offer us more garden-wandering time but a long drive home was hanging over our heads. We headed out to the car but not before one last pause to admire all the galanthus ‘viridapice’ clumping throughout the garden. If I remember correctly these were the drops which started most of the obsession in this garden. A pack of bulbs simply marked ‘snowdrops’, and thirty years later (and a lot of luck to get such a nice form of viradapice in that pack!) and the garden has drops all over.

Just one of many, many healthy clumps of galanthus ‘viridapice’ growing throughout the hedges and woodland plantings of the garden.

After we said our goodbyes we began the journey back west. Of course there was a side-trip. With 40 minutes to go till closing we popped into the Bayard Cutting Arboretum for a quick run through the snowdrop highlights of this former estate, present day NY State park. It’s an old manor house property which dates back to the late 1880’s and recalls Long Island’s history as an escape for the rich and famous of NYC.

“Westbrook” overlooking the Connetquot river and estuary as it leads out to the Great South Bay on Long Island’s South Shore.

This arboretum was one of my favorite off season destinations while growing up. The coastal air and sun would usually keep the walkways clear of snow and ice, and the pinetum plantings and many paths and trails were always a nice outing. Since I’ve already mentioned I was a little weird as a child, I don’t think it will surprise anyone that I knew where many a snowdrop patch was located.

Naturalized snowdrops (galanthus nivalis) filling in amongst the vinca minor.

We were quite satisfied with this stop. Not to date myself but over the decades many a change has come through here. Hurricane Gloria in ’85 was probably the worst when it wiped out an awesome hundred year old conifer collection and closed the park for months, but saltwater flooding from Sandy in 2012 seems to have done in my favorite patch of giant snowdrops (g.elwesii). Still it’s a wonderful spot which I’m happy to see protected and accessible.

A maintenance moneypit I’m sure, but the Tudor style with awesome shingling and crazy chimneys puts the approaching worm supermoon to shame.

But even our epic adventures have to heed reality, so back on the road to drop Paula off at her car and then part our ways. I still got a couple hours in with my parents (and of course a garden tour!) before hitting the road but it was still a satisfyingly long day even with the late night drive home. I will recommend it to all crazy galanthoholics 😉

Thanks again to our host for a very enjoyable visit, thanks Paula, and here’s to hoping our latest drop of snow (the real thing, not flowery kind) melts quickly and I can get out again and enjoy the snowdrops here. Have a great weekend!

Snowdrops, Quickly.

Mar17

Of course my life gets stupidly busy just when the local snowdrop season starts, but how can I complain when each day brings new blooms? Thursday and Friday were warm and that’s just what these snowdrops were waiting for.

Galanthus ‘Blonde Inge’ on her first day out in the sun. She’s still a little pale but her yellow inners just glow in the afternoon light.

For those who yawn at the sight of more mostly white, always tiny flowers I apologize. I’m in a rush, but I’ll still take the time to be that guy at the party who goes on way too much about something he’s already told you a million times before. I can’t help myself and even the half hearted ‘uh-huhs’ and sideways glances won’t be enough. Such is the curse of the galanthaholic.

Galanthus ‘Rosemary Burnham’ starts out tiny, but gets a little bigger as each warmish day passes. For some reason I don’t think she’s as green as usual this spring but still a beauty.

For the next few days the weather looks perfect for bringing on the main season of snowdrops. Here in my part of America, snowdrop season is often a real up and down thing, with none of the gentle transitions which mark more moderate climes. Some types take it all in stride, such as this Galanthus gracilis which a friend brought back for me after a spring visit to Nancy Goodwin’s Montrose Gardens. It comes up early and for the most part shrugs off even the worst ice and cold.

Galanthus gracilis with its trademark twisted foliage. It’s growing like a weed here in this dry, sunny spot alongside the front walk, but the exposed spot does seem to yellow the flowers a bit.

Not everyone takes the weather in stride. Just a week ago temperatures dropped down into the single digits, snow and ice were all over again, and some of the more exposed drops took a hit. I’ll spare you those pictures but here’s one that’s not too bad, of ‘Gerard Parker’ growing in the front border.

‘Gerard Parker’ with a few singed blooms and burnt tips. Still nice enough, but notice ‘Primrose Warburg’ coming up in back with perfect flowers. Primrose is just a little later and missed the worst of the weather, and Gerald might have to go back to a more sheltered position.

As I work out which drops get to fill in the front street border the yellow winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) are working hard to fill in on their own. It may take more time than I have, but someday I hope to have sheets of yellow and white filling this part of the yard.

Year by year the snowdrops (G. nivalis) and winter aconite fill in. Hopefully I didn’t put too much mulch down for this year’s crop of seedlings to come up through.

‘Nothing Special’ might be a good choice for the front border. It’s a strong growing beauty which seeds out a bit as well and I’m sure as a taller snowdrop it might compete better with the winter aconite than the little Galanthus nivalis which are there now.

Galanthus ‘Nothing Special’

So much for quickly, eh? Speaking of snowdrops and how some are not good competitors here’s ‘Norfolk Blonde’, a tiny pale thing which might be my favorite thing this minute. I’m just so pleased that it came back a second year and didn’t fade away into the growing heap of snowdrops I regret losing.

The petite ‘Norfolk Blonde’. I had to prune a few leaves off the cyclamen to keep it from overwhelming my little darling. You’d judge me if I said how much I paid for this one, especially considering she’s easily doubled in size from last year!

I’ll leave off on an amazingly vigorous drop which a friend gave me two years ago. It’s considered a cross between two species (elwesii x nivalis) and in its second year it’s already forming little clumps. I love the foliage and it’s a heavy bloomer as well.

Another contender for drift status, this Galanthus elwesii x nivalis hybrid will hopefully continue to multiply and flower strongly over the next few years.

As you know I could go on and on, but it’s bed time and I’ve got a snowdrop adventure planned for tomorrow morning. Fair warning that there will be more pictures and way more snowdrop talk, so feel free to tune me out until April if need be.

sorta like suburbia

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Category Archives: snowdrops