A Galanthus Gala and (some more) Winter Denial

Mar20

This Saturday Downington Pa became the horticultural ground zero for Mid Atlantic snowdrop lovers. For those who never get out of the house, David Culp is author of ‘The Layered Garden’ and breeder of the Brandywine strain of hellebores (as well as many other accomplishments… which a better blogger would probably research and list…) and this weekend he and several friends hosted a snowdrop party with talks and vendors and an (almost complete) list of who’s who of snowdrop lovers for the area. Again a better blogger would have photos and lists of all the snowdrops and other goodies for sale on this special day, but I was too distracted, and I’d suggest a visit to facebook and a quick search for snowdrop gala or David Culp and you should be able to get a good feel for it. My attention was held by the plants and people, and if you’re interested here’s what passed through the vetting process and came home with me 🙂

Gifts, trades, and purchases. Of course there were four new snowdrops mixed in there… apologies for that cold, ugly white background…

I’m a little concerned by how many people I knew and just how friendly they all were. This must be how people are convinced to join cults and by the looks of it I’m already drinking the punch! Treasures were exchanged and I even pried open the wallet for a few more treats. To my credit I resisted the hellebore rush, and as David Culp’s Brandywine hybrids flew off the sales table I limited myself to a single ‘Penny’s Pink’, one which I’ve been eyeing for at least a couple years.

Hopefully ‘Penny’s Pink’ will prove hardy for me. The flowers are nice enough but it’s this foliage which won me over.

I’m already planning on attending next year’s gala. Four hours flew by almost as fast as plants were flying out of the building, and before I wanted it to happen I was back in the car trying to beat the weather on my drive home. Hopefully next year there won’t be a snow dump in the week prior and hopefully we can fit in a gala garden visit or two as well!

Back home, indoors is where you have to be in order to find anything not buried by snow. Here’s my favorite primrose so far, a red from the Silver Dollar strain of Barnhaven seeds, and I love the large velvety flowers and their subtle color shading.

I may have to clear a little room under the lights while my new goodies wait for the last foot or two of snow to melt. Right now the light table is packed with semi-hardy things waiting to go outside, seedlings starting to take up more room, and other odds and ends which just needed a home.

A few more primula (pretty enough but maybe just a bit boring), plus some generic forced bulbs… all of which are priceless when there’s nothing outside but white.

The amaryllis are starting to come to life as well. The first one, hippeastrum ‘Lemon Sorbet’ has a nice pale yellow which leans more towards lime. The plant is considered a mini which means smaller flowers and a ridiculously small bulb, but still a full blooming height. I’m pretty sure a shorter plant would be more convenient, but I guess cut flowers are more valuable than a short dining table amaryllis.

Amaryllis ‘lemon sorbet’ and one last flower on the tulips. I’m still in shock that these have been allowed onto the new table, but they do look nice there.

So tomorrow is Monday and the kids head off to school again for the first time in six days. Snow is still in the process of melting but I don’t think much of it will be gone in the two days left until official spring arrives. We’ll see what happens. You can feel the strength in the sunshine and it’s just a matter of time now before the tide turns!

He Giveth and Taketh Away

Feb27

I guess it was fun while it lasted and I guess you can already see where this is going, but after a balmy stretch of record breaking warmth our week of unusual February weather has come to an end with a bang. It’s bizarre weather for a Pennsylvania winter and almost has me believing those crybaby liberal scientists who keep trying to push the idea of global warming on us. Luckily I ran into CarlB380 on some online political forum and he set me straight by explaining it’s just some normal variations in our global weather cycles. I heard the Chinese are behind it as well, so everyone just needs to relax.

Galanthus ‘Diggory’ sure looks better when you’re not freezing your butt off.

I have to confess that the Chinese may not be entirely to blame. This year I insisted on buying new snowpants for the kids since they were predicting a wetter than usual La Nina winter. Foolishly enough I thought that bonanza would come in the form of snow. Lots of snow means we would finally take advantage of the ski resort just 15 minutes away and all hit the slopes together to shake off rust and learn new skills. That didn’t happen. The only rust shook off was from the rake I used to clean out the front street border… not that the rake had much time to rust-up in our three week winter.

It will take a few more years before those specks of yellow in the center become a sheet of brigh yellow winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis), but it will happen soon enough. You may also notice the bed has crept to the right another few feet…

I admit I’m practically drowning in galanthomania (snowdrop love) these last few days, but in the interest of retaining my last few readers I’ll try and limit myself to just a few. Feel my struggle though. Although last year’s hail, heat, and arctic plunge devastated the season, it appears they loved the damp and drawn out spring which followed all that mess. This year they are coming up bigger than ever, with double stalks where I’ve never seen double stalks, and bulbs which have quadrupled in number… all that and a 70F (21C) sun soaked afternoon to sit on the lawn and admire them. Wow.

Last year’s plunge into frigid cold and winds withered the blooms and foliage on this bunch of ‘Magnet’. This spring it’s bigger than ever!

New favorites have settled in as well, and it’s nice to see what a few years can do to the lonely and sometimes lost single flowers of new snowdrop plantings. Here are two newer favorites, Galanthus ‘Kildare’ and ‘Erway’.

‘Kildare’ is a nice green tipped snowdrop out of Ireland while ‘Erway’ to the right has an interesting olive colored, oddly helmet-shaped ovary on top.

Now for the bad news though. A strong cold front had been working its way across the continent and by mid Saturday afternoon reached this end of Pennsylvania. During the first wave, golfball sized hail rained down out of the sky and a tornado spawned just two miles up the road.

In what might not have been one of my smarter moves I ran out to the street to bring the car up into the garage… too late to save it from a few dents in the hood, but fortunately my head avoided the same fate.

We were safe from the tornado, and although huge, the hailstones were short lived and only a few came down per square foot. Impressive enough on its own, but then the second wave hit. Strong winds, pea and marble sized hail, drenching downpour, and the frightening sound of hail smashing the roof and windows. Oh yeah, thunder and lightning as well, and in a few minutes the garden went from an early blossom of spring to a freakish mid summer smack-down.

Galanthus ‘viridapice’ with a few winter aconite and hardy Cyclamen coum… before and after.

All the early snowdrops are history and I’m crossing my fingers for the few late ones which were still trying to catch up with the weather. Easy come easy go I guess.

Goodbye ‘Bill Bishop’ and ‘Primrose Warburg’. See you in another 12 months.

Btw I’m a little impressed with myself over the merged photos. I’m sure this is old news for anyone even marginally computer literate, but just in case you’re interested it was done here> IMGonline

To wrap up my new-found computer savviness I’m throwing in a few videos as well. Here’s the second part of the storm as it really hit its stride.

…and a little later as the storm winds up. My tech skills only go so far, so unfortunately it’s been filmed in the narrow ‘portrait’ orientation, but hopefully this doesn’t kill my chances of breaking the record 23 views which my last video racked up.

We will see where this winter takes us next. I’m hoping it’s to spring but wherever it goes the ride is always an exciting one and always one which reminds me how grateful I am that I don’t rely on the weather for my livelihood. -and please don’t feel bad for the lost flowers, I’m sure they’ll be back stronger than ever next spring and after soaking them up completely for the last few days I think I’ll be fine until the next page of spring unfolds!

Getting Roots in the Ground Again

Feb18

2016/17 been a remarkably mild winter in this corner of Pennsylvania, and although February usually brings us some of our harshest cold and winter storms, this year it’s going out with a whimper. For a few days I won’t complain but beyond that I can’t promise anything. March has a history of big snow-dumps and hopefully if they do come they’re more picturesque than they are damaging, and hopefully this quirk of a winter is also not some dark prequel to an even worse global warming future.

Without a solid slate-cleaning this winter I’m a little lost heading into the 2017 gardening season. It all still seems so ‘last year’ so I suppose I’ll use that as my excuse for not putting out the usual bored with the snow, don’t want to face the cold, winter time flashback posts, but let me at least try and get this one post out before I’m lost outside again searching for spring sprouts. It goes back to 2002 when the ignorance of youth thought it would be a good idea to buy a house, lose a job, and get engaged all in the same two months.

Our diamond in the rough.

Before I get too distracted with the story I want to point out that a normal first impression of our little valley usually dates it at around 20 years behind the rest of the country. It’s a region who’s boom time began at the tail end of the 1700’s with the discovery of vast deposits of anthracite coal; the cleanest, hardest, and highest carbon coal out there, and the fuel which powered the economic and manufacturing development of this entire region. For about 100 years we were riding high but it was a one horse show, and by the 1950’s the horse was definitely showing its age. Deep mining had shifted to strip mining and the whole region went into a kind of long term hibernation of fleeing youth and aging residents. Our house is an example of the ‘build it quick for housing’ phase and was probably built around 1910 as cheap two family housing for miners. After decades of rough living it was probably worth our $24,000 purchase price.

100 years of history and the yard didn’t even have a peony or daffodil. Gardening was confined to an overgrown privet hedge which looms to the right and a single mass of lilacs growing alongside a decaying shed.

I optimistically brought all the potted plants over from my former apartment balcony and then later watched them freeze as first the plumbing and then heat and finally electricity were pulled out and replaced. In case it’s not obvious from the photos or purchase price the house was in horrible condition, so much so that when the realtor’s odd girlfriend took her small dog into the house and allowed it to pee on the kitchen doorjamb it barely raised an eyebrow. I guess we were too distracted by the rotted floor boards, cobbled home repairs, and ‘evidence’ of vermin infestation.

That fall I planted daffodils, and in between gutting the house and piecing together scraps for a rabbit hutch, put in the first patch for gardening and trimmed back the near side of the privet. oh yeah, and actually transplanted grass so that I had at least one nice strip of lawn to walk on.

As I’m very fond of saying, ignorance is bliss, and for several months the economic realities of the newly unemployed demanded that I just “polish and put a shine on shit” and hopefully have a resale value once the journey was done, but a former girlfriend now fiancée had different ideas.

I have no idea why I had to have a waterlily even when I didn’t have a running toilet, but there it is. Until the next dumpster arrives, what better use is there for a 1960’s avocado green bath tub?

After several months of basement and utility renovations the friend who’s a contractor is traded in for the actual deal. We’re into new territory now and although I can’t pay my labor in cases of beer anymore there is progress. Unfortunately real contractors can’t be bothered with sensibly small attic dormers, they prefer “it’s cheaper to rip it down and build solid walls” and so we did.

About a year later. Might as well add a second floor while you’re at it.

So here we were taking a two family home (which likely housed close to a dozen people at one time), tripling it in size, and making it just large enough for the two of us.

Looks quaint and country, but keep in mind that a freight rail line runs just behind the trees, and only a few years ago a garbage truck collapsed into the road when an old mine shaft gave way.

Still unemployed, and now enrolled in school (again) the ballooning “don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of the kids”, pricetag finally scared me off the very addictive drug of contractor help. With windows in and siding set to go on we cut the cord, buttoned up the exterior and moved into the basement… and found out what it is to live on love 🙂

Building from the bottom up. What were we thinking!? In hindsight it’s hard to believe all of this was the product of me in the basement with a few sheets of graph paper and a lot of ‘yeah, I think I want another door here and window there… and oh, probably another bathroom’.

Obviously there wasn’t all that much free time for gardening, but you know how it goes with all work and no play…

Of course there’s not much to the garden in October, but the privet has bounced back from its trim back and another bed is in. Not really a garden design, but these beds take care of the pathetic grass which it replaced. Please note the ever popular burn pit where most of the old house’s lumber was illegally burned.

Once we moved into the house the next three years are kind of foggy. A full kitchen came first, a completed first floor, a new job, a master bedroom, a new baby, a completed second floor… finally an attic loft. Slowly the garden inched along as well.

Behind the garage became a new garden spot where iris divisions were welcomed. You can’t beat the generosity of other gardeners for filling in bare patches.

To know me is to know I have a slight leaning towards the tropical flair. I love how you can get a massive show in just a few short weeks.

The usual leftovers and scraps which are my constant struggle. Someday I’ll get them under control… or move to a new house 😉

The fun of a new garden is you have room for nearly everything and don’t yet have the baggage of too many beds gone to weeds, invasive plants, or “shouldn’t have put that there” issues.

I am a bit of a creature of habit. Ten years later and I’m still growing all of these tropical and tropical looking goodies. -and I still like too much red

Another big plus for this house was that pretty much everything we did was a blessing -considering the property’s history of troublesome kids, giant rats, and overflowing trash piles. Construction debris, dirt piles, unfinished projects, were all overlooked in this neighborhood where it’s not unusual for people to live and die in the house they were born in.

The front garden never really had time to come together. I would have loved a small picket fence or something.

We were on a different track though. Memories were built, lessons learned, and dreams ignited but when it came down to it this wasn’t more than a stepping stone. Five years into it (just as the last big projects were finished) we decided to buy the house of my wife’s grandparents. It was an unexpected decision based mostly on emotion, but in the long run we knew this would be short term.

A very helpful addition to the garden. From the start he was practically an expert in finding worms and digging up new transplants.

So that spring I focused on grassing over a few beds, moving a ton of plants to the new house, and getting the house set to go on the market.

The new view out the back door. I wish I had better pictures of the seating area carved out of the back slope, but as usual I was distracted by lounging out on the deck.

So that was what brought us to the new house. In what has become our normal mode of operation for life changing events, that spring we were hit with a tsunami of the house selling in three days, a baby arriving a month early, a job lost, a car totaled, all made even more fun when you decide a few changes to the “new” house might be necessary… but we survived and it really puts the panic of a late frost or snapped iris stalk in perspective.

Don’t worry, we shall return to our normal garden updates next post. I’ve just taken a look outside and the snowdrops are coming and the snow is melting and as soon as 2017 is off and running I won’t give a darn about years gone by until winter rolls around again. Hopefully the weather is looking up for you as well!

Snowdropping 2017

Feb13

Rather than face 9 inches of snow and a 12F (-11C) low lets take a trip back to just four days ago when the springtime warmth brought on an emergency trip to enjoy this year’s first snowdrop trip. It’s early of course, but we were on a mission this time and with the thermometer peaking at 60F (15C) it was now or never. The mission was to visit Dr. John Lonsdale at Edgewood Gardens, and take a tour of his overflowing snowdrop and cyclamen greenhouses before the warm weather set all the flowers to seed. We were not disappointed.

Snowdrops and hardy cyclamen filling the greenhouse benches.

John lives and gardens in Exton, Pennsylvania, just outside of Philadelphia and from the looks of things you’d never guess he has yet to quit his day job. These thousands of drops and bulbs (plus about a billion other plants spread out across his yard) are just a passionate hobby and sideline which is Edgewood Gardens. You may already know this since he is a regular feature at garden events and lectures up and down the East coast, but to see his garden and hear him talk you would think for sure he lives the life of a full time nurseryman.

Galanthus ‘Homersfield’ in the Lonsdale greenhouse.

I have plenty of pictures here and will likely ramble on too long so to keep things focused I’ll just add that John will be putting out his first snowdrop sales list this summer, and if you’re even just slightly interested in seeing what drops might be available send him an email via his Edgewood Gardens website.

I didn’t take nearly as many photos as I thought. Most of my visit was spent poking through the benches admiring all the characteristics and nuances that a plain little green and white winter flowering bulb can give.

John may be growing a few extra bulbs for sale, but it doesn’t take more than a walk up his driveway to recognize he’s plant obsessed with a weakness towards collecting.

Hundreds of carefully inventoried and labeled pots fill every square inch.

The full range of snowdrops is represented in the greenhouse, selections from seed grown species right alongside some of the most coveted European varieties, many of which are nearly impossible to find on either side of the Atlantic. This is even more impressive when you consider the cost and complications which are involved in bringing these plants into the States legally (something you’ll quickly notice when browsing overseas sources).

An all green snowdrop, Galanthus ‘Green Tear’, is one of those drops which broke records a few years ago when first offered on eBay. Someone thought $500 for a single bulb was just right for feeding their obsession.

When they’re all together like this it’s hard to pick out favorites…. or even distinguish one white drop from another, but a few stand out even to a beginner like myself.

The puffy pantaloons look of Galanthus ‘Diggory’ (pantaloons as in pants, not the twenty one pilots song)

Travel is supposed to broaden the mind but I’m afraid all this trip did was make my snowdrop obsession worse. I picked up several new names to add to the want-list…

Galanthus ‘Duckie’ on the left and top. I loved the wide flat petals.

I also like how the green mark inside Galanthus ‘Moortown’ bleeds up a bit and stains the inside. Plus it’s a nice big sturdy drop 🙂

Galanthus ‘Green Mile’, another sought after, deeply saturated green snowdrop.

Ok, so that might be plenty of snowdrops, but before we leave the greenhouse the hardy Cyclamen coum deserve some attention as well. Not to pat myself on the back too strongly, but these are the same plants which John offers for sale through his website, and somehow through a remarkable feat of self control I managed to limit myself to just four carefully selected plants.

Cyclamen coum at their peak in the greenhouse. It will be another few weeks before the ones I have here in my own garden begin to flower, and weather permitting they will be just as nice.

There were also plenty of seedlings coming along for future sales.

Various hardy and not so hardy cyclamen seedlings coming along in the “other” greenhouse. If you look closely you can even see some of the cool purple centered C hederifolium coming along in the center of the photo. Even the little babies color up!

… and that’s just in the greenhouses. Because of the exceptional temperatures things were pushing ahead outside as well.

The absolutely perfect Colchicum kesselringii, a late winter flowering relative of the more common fall blooming colcicum.

The first of the Adonis amurensis were coming up to take advantage of the sun.

And cactus. I barely mentioned the cactus beds, but there they were looking as if they were growing a few hundred miles West and South of this Philly garden.

An opuntia (prickly pear) which wrinkles up and takes on an unusual purple color once temperatures fall. I wonder if it blooms as nicely as the regular version, the spines sure do look just as fierce!

Oh and I’m sure you’re done with snowdrops, but there were more outside as well, both in bloom and just beginning to sprout.

I believe this is Galanthus ‘Mrs Macnamara’, a perfect beauty and surprisingly hardy and early. Word is this bunch has been going strong for a couple weeks already, and still looks this good.

Hellebores were also just beginning.

A few of many Helleborus niger (Christmas rose) which were coming up around the garden. Here on the slope they looked absolutely perfect.

Even a few of the trees and shrubs were showing signs of life. The witch hazels (Hamamelis) were in bloom all over the gardens, but the delicate flowers of the Japanese plum (Prunus mume) really look too delicate for a Pennsylvania February.

Prunus mume. Dr. Lonsdale told me the cultivar but at that point I’m pretty sure my brain was way too full to retain any lengthy Japanese names.

I could easily spend all day or another day at Edgewood Gardens, but if you’re at all familiar with our Philly snowdrop jaunts you’ll know we always fit in way too much for the still short days. Before our greenhouse visit we happily dropped an hour and a half at a local park to again admire the sheets of naturalized winter aconite (Eranthis Hyemalis) which grow there.

The forest floor was buzzing with hundreds of honeybees taking advantage of these first flowers of 2017.

We even managed to find a few snowdrops just coming up. What a perfect combination, and quite a contrast to the deer chewed pachysandra, weeds and brambles.

Naturalized eranthis and snowdrop bulbs. Given a few acres and about 150 years and you might also have a similar show.

We were so lucky with the weather this year. Snowdropping in February is one thing, doing it in short sleeves is unheard of even in the warmest of years. Hopefully when March rolls around and it’s time to head north to visit Hitch Lyman and Temple Gardens we will be just as lucky. History says otherwise though.

Temperatures dropped to normal within 24 hours of our visit and we finally got a good coating of snow to cover up any signs of spring. It now looks more normal for February, but that doesn’t explain why the kids can’t just go sledding in their snow pants like everyone else.

As usual a special thanks goes out to Paula for her annual enthusiasm for these trips, and also a big thanks goes out to Dr. Lonsdale for being so generous with his time, his knowledge and also his garden. Truth be told I may have just kind of invited myself over that day, but you would never have guessed it by how warmly I was received by both John and by his other (more scheduled) visitors. It was great getting to see everyone and I hope we do this again!

The Winter Garden 2017

Feb2

Once again the new normal in winters is proving itself to be completely abnormal. Instead of celebrating the depths of winter last week with a warm blanket and a seed catalog I found myself outside in the sun clearing dried stems from around snowdrop sprouts and spreading mulch and compost on top of the earliest spring flower beds. I loved it for a few days, but to see snow and freezing temperatures in the week ahead was much more reassuring, if only to keep the flowers asleep until safer weather returns. It is winter gardening season after all, and the 2017 winter garden has been up and running since the holidays.

Life under the lights.

The cool (but rarely freezing) workshop which adjoins the back of the garage is home to my often celebrated winter garden. A collection of overwintering bulbs and potted plants survive the cold in this dimly lit room, and each winter they are joined by a table top full of forced bulbs, early seedlings, and whatever else I can’t leave to freeze outside. I’ve upped the number of fluorescent light fixtures to three this year and am feeling rich with all the extra growing space!

A closeup of the different foliage types filling the table. Snowdrops and cyclamen dominate, the cyclamen are only just starting to put out their midwinter flower show.

Interest in the winter garden rises and falls opposite the outdoor temperatures. Colder weather means more tinkering indoors, warmer weather results in general neglect. This week I bucked the trend though, and brought in a tray of primula seedlings before the approaching snow and ice locked them up in their protective mulch pile.

With just a little cleanup I’m optimistic these primroses will look great. Hopefully blooms will show up in just a couple weeks under the lights.

Three plants have become standards for my winter garden. Snowdrops are the first. They’re an addiction so I can’t really reason out why I must grow them here when they’re just as successful (and nearly at the same stage) as under lights… but I do. Cyclamen and primrose are a different story. Their bright colors and their overall happiness in this cold back room really cheer up a gloomy winter evening and make this my new favorite place for sorting seeds and planning the new season’s garden.

Each year the winter garden room gains a little more street credit. Maybe someday I can be surrounded by aged terra cotta and antique garden décor, with a few rustic signs which say ‘garden’ or something similar…. Maybe. Either that or a beer tap.

As I hide out in my man cave it gives me the necessary time to fully enjoy the snowdrops and other goodies which are coming along under lights. The bulk Galanthus elwesii which I bought as dried bulbs and potted up for forcing have given me a few nice surprises, but I will spare you from most of those photos. Here’s one though which I will put in, it’s a particularly tall one growing alongside a peculiar climbing asparagus which I grew from seed last winter. Asparagus asparagoides is a noxious weed in several tropical areas outside its native African range, but here under growlights in Pennsylvania I think we’re safe. To be honest there’s nothing really special about it, except that it’s super special… if you know what I mean.

Snowdrops and the climbing Asparagus asparagoides. I don’t think the asparagus would be hardy outdoors, which is probably a good thing.

Ok one more snowdrop.

A particularly nice snowdrop with average markings but a second scape (extra flowering stem) coming up, and a third flower coming up off of a side shoot. A snowdrop which puts out three flowers is a good thing in my opinion.

Until the cyclamen get into full bloom and the primroses burst into flower I’ll just give an update on the hyacinths I potted up just before Christmas. They’re starting to sprout and I’ve moved them onto the coldest windowsill of the workshop for some light. Once the flower stems start to come a little more I’ll move them under the grow lights as well. The fragrance of hyacinths will be a nice addition to the winter garden.

The poorly insulated, dirty glass of the shop windows is as close to a coldframe as I’ll get this year. The bulbs don’t seem to mind though and the cool temperatures keep the flowers from opening up too fast (before they’ve sprouted up out of the bulb).

So that’s where the winter garden is this year. I planted onion seeds yesterday and in my mind the primroses already look as if they’ve grown a bit since coming inside. It’s exciting but also dangerous to start so early on that tricky road to spring fever, but maybe the next four days of below freezing weather will help. I’ll just need to ignore the fifth day when the high is predicted at 50F (10C)… a temperature too high for February and one which is sure to bring on the first outdoor snowdrops.

Winter Interest? I guess….

Jan17

Just like nearly all the rest of the Northern hemisphere we here in NE Pennsylvania are dipping into another cold spell. As far as cold spells go it’s not anything too intimidating, since we’ve only dipped into the single digits one night, but it is cold enough to make you reconsider running out to the mailbox without a coat on and it encourages you to think of the garden from more of a spectator point of view. Even from the comfortable side of a windowpane winter interest is still slim pickings around here, but now that a few years have passed things are starting to turn a corner.

A low winter sun catches the russet peels of paperbark maple (Acer griseum). I may have it in a spot far too close to the house, but at least it’s finally starting to grow well.

Winter interest here does not include early snowdrops or hellebores nor the occasionally exotic winter blooming shrub, winter interest here is a desperate flash of green holding out against the winter, or a fresh blush of colorful bark or bright conifer needles brightened by the weak winter sun. I guess if pressed I’d include dried seed stems and stalks, but honestly unless they’re frosted in ice or topped with snow they really just remind me of all the cleanup yet to be done before spring.

Ok I guess I do like the golden(?) winter tint on the dried stalks of Panicum ‘Dallas Blues’. While other grasses take on a faded dead beige, these seem to hold on to a much richer color which shows up even better when surrounded by snow.

In the meantime, before the rush of spring hits, there’s still plenty of time to sit back and consider the winter garden. Snow helps. There’s really nothing to do out there when snow hits other than watch the comings and goings at the bird feeder, but until we get a couple inches down there’s always a restlessness every time the sun comes out and things look like they’re just waiting.

The smallest bit of winter structure. A boxwood hedge which has finally grown in enough to look intentional. It may not say good design the way I just have it randomly in the yard, but I do love my little hedges and always try to get it just a little more level and a tiny bit straighter.

If cropped perfectly and shot from just the right angle… and if the light just happens to work out, you can halfway believe that my garden has something worth seeing once the flowers have died and the leaves fallen.

A lawn still holding on to green (which has faded significantly from the last arctic dip), a few little bluestems and dried hydrangeas, a blue spruce… it all looks somewhat interesting right now.

Maybe in a few years I’ll be able to offer something more constructive in the way of winter gardening advice, but for now I’m just glad I can wander through without snowshoes.

Future winter interest may be just what these Magnolia grandiflora seedlings will offer… assuming they prove hardy. Last winter was a protected outdoor test for several dozen, this winter will be an open garden test for the remaining three.

More snow will come of course, and when it does things will officially enter the indoor “puttering” stage of seed sowing and houseplants, but for a few more days I’ll brave the cold and look for even the tiniest sprouting buds of hope. My anxious side wants to find them everywhere, my cautious side wants them to wait another two months.

Here’s a new snowdrop which didn’t get the NE Pa memo on winter storm watches. Here’s some news for you ‘Merlin’, there will be more blasts of cold, and you shouldn’t be out so early.

So in the mean time we will deal with the ice storms, shovel out from the snow storms, and bundle up for the cold spells.

A nice glazing of ice kept the kids home last week. No good for sledding but they were fine with the day off 🙂

All this talk of braving the weather has been made a whole lot easier with a look at the ten day forecast. The fluffy snow and single digits from yesterday will warm up and melt rapidly in temperatures that don’t even dip below freezing in the foreseeable future. This wouldn’t be the first January thaw to ever hit us but considering the ground is barely frozen under the snow, I don’t hold out much hope for convincing bulbs to stay dormant. February may be ugly if too many things decide to give growing a go, but we’ll cross that bridge when it comes.

That wasn’t smart 7.0

Jan5

It’s a new year and a new season and although one would hope for inspiring resolutions and the turning over of new leaves to happen, this dog has already finished trying to learn that trick. In my opinion we might as well skip the introspection and self reflection and jump right into the new year with a fresh batch of poor decision making and questionable choices!

Option 1. The temptation of clearance bulbs when both the thermometer and calendar say it’s too late.

In this neck of the woods after Christmas is too late to plant spring blooming bulbs. Reason number one is that a week of snow and temperatures in the teens has frozen the soil solidly leaving no options for outdoor planting. Solution? Pickaxe a clump of compost, thaw it out in the garage, and pot up way too many bulbs for winter forcing. I’ll let you know how it works out.

Option 2. The temptation of clearance evergreens when both the thermometer and calendar say it’s too late.

Same deal with a ‘Red Beauty’ holly and ‘Butterball’ Hinoki cypress. The holly was practically free since its clearance price was significantly lower than any other single item purchased on that particular trip to the DIY store, and the Hinoki (Chamaecyparis obtusa) also barely registered when dropped into the wagon during a Christmas Eve grocery run. At $8.99 it was completely worth the eye roll I endured during checkout.

Option 3. The way below freezing forecast (and calendar) say this snowdrop is much too far along.

Snowdrops are hardy bulbs more than capable of enduring the next two months of cold in the wide open garden. I’m a worrier though, so when my precious ‘Fly Fishing’ sprouted too eagerly I chose to opt out and just take the little guy inside and under the lights of the winter garden. People say growing snowdrops indoors under lights and in pots is difficult, I say running outside to cover a precocious galanthus every time an arctic blast threatens is worse. So in it comes.

My modus operandi for these snowdrop “rescues” is to completely rinse off the garden soil and pot up in a deep container with a loose, gritty mix of potting soil. Not to point out the obvious, but I really have no basis for much of what I do. Advice is always welcomed.

‘Fly Fishing’ came inside the first week of December, so it’s been a month, but this transplanting “in the green” at what’s probably not the best time of its growth cycle seems to have done little damage. Obviously you should take care with the roots while doing this.

The flowers of Galanthus ‘Fly Fishing’ hang at the end of long pedicles. Outside it sways gracefully in every breeze. Inside it’s just as nice, and perhaps even better when I can turn on the lights and admire it at 8pm with an adult beverage in hand.

Anyone who has followed this blog for any amount of time knows that smart decisions, restraint, and resolutions do not come to mind when I consider snowdrops. On clearance at $17 per 100 bulbs I could not resist a few hundred Galanthus worowonii bulbs even if it doesn’t come close to being a favorite species. I decided that’s kind of ignorant though since I’ve never even grown the plant myself, so in an attempt to become a better person I bought and planted 300 outside with about 2 dozen reserved for pots in the winter garden.

The first pot of G. worowonii under lights in the winter garden. I find it promising that one is not showing the typical apple green foliage of the species, since it’s likely a ‘mistake’ mixed in. I doubt it’s anything too exciting, but I do love snowdrop surprises!

So at this time of year I guess I am just like every other person out there trying to start the new year off as a better person, even if it means buying more snowdrops. Not to sound threatening but I’m sure this will involve more snowdrop posts than any decent person would want since there are several more potted up for inside as well as several new ones which look very promising outside. I’ve already admitted to having a problem, so please spare me any additional eye rolls. The rolls wouldn’t make a difference anyway since over the years I’ve developed quite a high tolerance.

Happy New Year and all the best for 2017.

Setting the Table

Dec11

The holiday season has been off to an early start this year. Under pressure from the children the decorations went up the afternoon of Thanksgiving and within 48 hours the house went from reasonably autumnal to yuletide overload. I love it of course and even if it means we’ve finally all fallen victim to the day after Thanksgiving holiday commercialism, at least we’ll go down with a smile. With that in mind, might as well fire the holiday candle full flame and head down to Longwood Gardens for an early peek at the holiday display.

This wouldn’t be our first visit to the gardens during the holidays, we’ve been down before and to be honest I was a little nervous about the crowds on this trip. The last two visits managed to hit on some of their busiest days and with admission tickets sold out for Friday’s opening day I was holding my breath to see how Sunday would work out. I should have relaxed, it worked out great. We arrived around 3pm and were able to just fit into the main parking lot, showed our tickets at the gate, and then walked right in with plenty of smiles and not a single delay.

The exhibition hall with this year’s focal point, a huge ivy and poinsettia tree highlighted with dozens and dozens of white moth (Phalaenopsis) orchids.

I usually have a plan of what’s to be done and seen, but now that the kids are older they’re far more determined to do and see what they want. There was a much faster pace as we rushed through the displays and barely noticed much more exciting things such as orchid displays, bonsai trees and carnivorous plants. There was also this odd fascination with organ recitals and Christmas carols, of which we were required to sit (and sing) through two full showings. This enthusiasm must not have gone unnoticed since by the end of the second session our organist, Rudy Lucente, invited the girl up to give her a close-up of the organ mechanics. What a thrill that was for our budding musician.

Rudy Lucente at the organ.

So the visit took on a different tone. I did get to explore the gardens for a bit before the sun set but the visit was more about enjoying the season than it was about examining every new plant.

I sometimes forget there are ‘other’ parts of the conservatory which are devoted to music and grand entertaining.

Once we had a bite to eat and the sun went down it was time to re-explore with all the lights on.

A Longwood Christmas inside the conservatory. I was particularly impressed with the huge hanging chrysanthemum balls. Someday I hope to get down here for that show as well, I’d love to see the greenhouses decked out in fancy autumn mums.

For all the visits we’ve had this might be the first where we’ve sat through the fountain display. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that since the water, lights, and music were more impressive than I thought they could be…. did I mention I’m more of a plants person?

I guess the DuPonts were onto something when they spent millions on building fountains and then inviting friends to view them.

The decorated grounds are the highlight of the night though. I’d show more pictures but we really just spent our time wandering, sipping a warm drink, and enjoying the fact this was our first above the freezing mark visit.

A Longwood Christmas on the grounds. Music, snacks, beverages, bonfires, and a beautiful night.

What seemed like pushing the season turned out to be perfect. The two weeks since have flown by and I know this trip wouldn’t have fit in between other visits and snowy weather. Better to get it in while you can.

Give >their website< a visit even if you can’t make it yourself. I’ve left out so much and their photography is exceptional. You can also easily see if things are crowded and if tickets are selling out.

All the best as we begin to wrap up the year!

Our Days Are Numbered

Nov6

There’s an impending air of doom hanging over the garden, and the threat of next week taints everything. The Cubs winning the World Series was likely the first sign of the apocalypse and now I can only imagine what next Wednesday could bring. Our current stretch of warm weather has me even more nervous since as we know from high school science, freezing is an exothermic process and on the chance that Hell has indeed frozen over science would predict that things up here on the surface would warm up as a result. I’ve never hoped for a cold snap more, even if it means losing the last of the autumn flowers.

The latest of my seedling chrysanthemums. This one’s not as hardy as the rest but does well enough up near the foundation.

The last of the autumn leaves are really hanging on in the warmth. This red maples along the fence is always my favorite with its sunset blend of reds, oranges, and yellows. As the days go on it will hopefully fade to pale yellow with red highlights before finally covering the lawn with a carpet of next year’s mulch and compost.

For most of the year I resent the greedy water stealing roots of this pesky red maple (Acer rubrum), but for a few days in autumn I forgive it and soak up every glowing minute of its final foliage show.

Closer to the ground the earliest (or latest, depending on your perspective) bulbs are beginning to show signs of growth. My absolute favorite right this moment is the fall blooming snowdrop a friend of mine brought back for me from Nancy Goodwin’s Montrose Gardens in Hillsborough, North Carolina. I love a plant with a story and this one has a good one. Its full name is Galanthus elwesii var. monostictus Hiemalis group ex. Montrose and to be honest I love writing that one out. It’s the nerdy Latin way of describing a fall blooming snowdrop with a single green mark that comes to me via Montrose Gardens. This one and its thousands of sisters are all the descendants of a handful of bulbs Mrs. Goodwin purchased decades ago at a local hardware store. They say the rest is history, but in this case it’s a history which required years of division and transplanting as the bulbs were slowly spread across her acres of woodland. The bulbs now make an unparalleled show each autumn around Thanksgiving and I wouldn’t rule out some day making the eight hour trip to see it in person. Such are the dreams of the obsessed, but if you’d like more information have a look at this NY Times article on a visit to the gardens, and also consider looking up Nancy Goodwin’s book “Montrose: Life in a Garden” for a monthly chronicle of the gardens. She was also a big fan of the Cyclamen family and grows thousands of them as well. That’s my kind of gardener.

Galanthus elwesii var. monostictus Hiemalis group ex. Montrose. Yeah.

Besides fall blooming snowdrops, there was also an October surprise here when my two auricula primrose insisted on sending up a few autumn flower stalks. I’d rather they waited until spring since the flowers don’t look nearly as big or nice as the could, but my hope is they really liked their repotting and are only just ramping up to an even more amazing show in March under the growlights…. unless they’re planning on dying, which is always another possibility for plants in my care.

A pair of primula. Primula auricula hybrids to be exact. The yellow had bloomed before but this is the first flower for the brownish one, and I’m pleased with the color.

Some other final color in the garden is the Aster oblongifolius ‘Raydons Favorite’. It waits until the very end of the season and carries it out with a clear lavender blue color and attractive dark eyes as the flowers fade. I should really give it a little more room and respect next year, and not let it suffer all summer crowded and untended while the summer annuals steal the show.

Amidst the mildew decay of fading peony foliage and frosted zinnias, Aster ‘Raydons Favorite’ offers up fresh color for this part of the border. I think more would be a good idea.

I can’t do a late fall post without slipping in a cyclamen or two. They’re sending out more and more of their beautiful foliage and while other parts of the garden are fading, these go from strength to strength. I may have to talk to John Lonsdale about adding a few new ones since you can never have too many of these treasures and he always seems to have a few special ones for sale at Edgewood Gardens.

The hardy Cyclamen hederifolium starts flowering without foliage in late summer. I love it even more when the leaves begin to come up and there are still plenty of blooms to accent them.

The range of foliage types in Cyclamen hederifolium is really outstanding. The dainty and distinct flowers are almost more of an afterthought.

A pale pink form of Cyclamen hederifolium with a leaf pattern which I love.

For the moment I may have resisted adding any new Cyclamen but don’t be under the false impression I’ve resisted all the other goodies which can be found during fall planting season… or even better found during autumn clearance sales. For some reason I found the Santa Rosa clearance sale (still going on btw, and don’t miss out on the additional 20% off coupon code) and discovered I needed more grasses and a trio of carnivorous pitcher plants. Who knew?

Three new bog plants (Sarracenia) for the bog I don’t have. Hopefully I can keep them happy elsewhere since they’re so absolutely cool with their sinister insect trapping pitchers.

As I go on and on about new plants I won’t even mention the tulips which need planting, the daffodils which need replanting, and the projects which need finishing before the bottom drops out of this pleasant autumn weather. Let’s hope that’s the only thing which the bottom drops out of this week.

Have a good one!

Those boring chrysanthemums again.

Oct30

It’s a rainy and dark October afternoon and you need a light on inside to do just about everything except nap. This wasn’t my plan but then dark skies and October thunderstorms aren’t easy to plan for in general. Better to just get on the computer and look at a few photos from earlier in the month, and it seems like all the earlier photos center on those most under appreciated of autumn flowers, the chrysanthemums.

A nice seedling of one of the cushion mums. Not much form or grace to it but the cantalopy orange with just a tint of pink looks good in the failed beds of the vegetable garden.

I happen to like chrysanthemums. More so now than in March but even if it’s a seasonal love I think they deserve more respect than that of a disposable pot of color which usually ends up in the trash on the weekend after Thanksgiving. They’ve earned it after all, 600+ years of cultivation in Eastern Asia with a reputation for happiness and royalty shouldn’t just fade away the minute Walmart offers them at 3 for $10. Take a look here at the National Chrysanthemum Society’s webpage for a brief overview of their history.

Chrysanthemum ‘Centerpiece’ on the left with a similar looking seedling to the right. Just a little bit of difference separates the two but I bet a chrysanthemum breeder would twitch at the inferiority of the other.

I would guess if there’s one single thing which defeats the Chrysanthemum’s reputation it’s the lack of hardiness of all those late season purchases. Gardening amateurs and experts alike often wonder why their attempts at overwintering these perennials routinely fail and why they’re left with a dead plant come springtime, and to keep my story short (and match my limited attention span), it’s because they just aren’t hardy. They were bred for color and shape and reliable bloom and overwintering ease just didn’t factor in.

A butterscotch colored seedling… or is it pumpkin colored… either way it’s a nice dose of color.

I suppose this all brings me to the point of this post. I’ve been ‘dabbling’ in the hardier chrysanthemum sorts, the kinds which look great, grow without a care, and overwinter without a problem, and I’ve found it’s easier than you’d think. As an added bonus they seem to like my poor soils and frequent droughts, and the bare patches of my beds will usually sprout a few mystery seedlings each spring to keep me guessing as to what surprises are coming along each fall. A few online sources offer hardier types but I’ve been getting most of mine through Faribault Growers and their Mums of Minnesota offerings.

Chrysanthemum ‘Bristol white’ in front (not a favorite since hard freezes will brown the tender centers) with a few interesting seedlings behind.

The mums I’ve been getting have had little trouble with winters here (z6a) but every now and then give up due to frost heaving or a late spring freeze (about half my plants unexpectedly died this year when an arctic front rolled through in late March after growth had started…). They’re still not as surefire hardy as the Korean mum types (developed using the hardily named Chrysanthemum sibiricum) but they’re shorter and bushier and have more of a variety of flower colors and forms and it’s just what I need to distract me from the changing leaf colors and dying annuals of autumn.

Another seedling. The singles seem to be more popular with the pollinators, I’m just impressed that these survived a summer of neglect and drought and poor soil here at the base of a yew hedge.

I believe one of the more popular Mums of Minnesota introductions have been the Mammoth mum series. They’re spreading, hardy perennials and just massive mounds of color when in bloom, but for as much as it pains me to say I have to classify them as a little boring. They do great next door in my MIL’s mulch beds (which honestly are even more boring without the mums), but for as far as a plant to get excited about…. they’re not. Luckily they know a little trick, and that’s their promiscuous selfsowing and all the little surprises they leave in the monotonous spread of shredded wood mulch.

Momma plant (‘Red Daisy’) fills the upper left of the view, her mongrel offspring fill in along the bottom and up the right. As you can see they don’t come anywhere near to ‘true’ from seed and there are even a few well-doubled flowers showing up.

Next year I may try and find a spot to plant out a bunch of the seedlings and see what greatness they amount to but I warn you not to hold your breath on that one. It’s hard to get excited about mum in April and even harder to find enough open spots to fill with something that doesn’t pay off until October.

This might be my favorite. Chrysanthemum ‘mellow moon’ has these large, softly colored flowers which make great cut flowers but as you can see the clump’s been invaded by an odd yet attractive pink daisy seedling. Hopefully next spring I can separate them out since I don’t want to crowd out the moon.

Another seedling, this one a complete dwarf. I wonder how better soil conditions will change this plant, since this dry part of the bed is far better suited to cacti.

The whole mum clan seems pretty easy from seed and it’s always fun to see what shows up. My last few photos are of a seedling which came from the HPS seed exchange and although they’re nothing like their ‘Innocence’ parent (a pale pink single which blushes pink with age) they’re indestructible through winter cold and summer drought. Their only flaw is either the need for staking, or a harsh chop back in early July to control floppiness.

A seedling of chrysanthemum ‘Innocence’

If you noticed the previous picture has about half a dozen ailanthus webworm moths wandering the flowers. It’s an oddly colored little thing and I was hoping for something rarer and possibly native when I first spotted them… but as it is with most insects around here, if there are more than enough, chances are it’s not native.

Ailanthus webworm moth (Atteva aurea). A unique look in my opinion.

I’ll leave you with another one of the large flowered mums which seems quite content in my less than ideal garden conditions. I had taken at least two or three pictures before I realized the flower was looking back at me.

Chrysanthemum ‘Gold Country’ with someone else who might be interested in pollinating moths and such.

Hope you had a great weekend, gloomy rain or not, and hopefully there’s a spell of nice planting weather coming up so I can finish up all the unfinished gardening work of 2016… or not. There will be plenty of time for gardening ambition in February 🙂

sorta like suburbia

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