Snowdropping ’23

Feb26

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

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

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

When planting trees always remember proper spacing and mature height.

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

The patches of snowdrops are becoming sheets!

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

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

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

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

My wish list always grows during these garden visits.

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

A growing clump of ‘Amy Doncaster’

The witch hazel Hamamelis x ‘Princeton Gold’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paths through the garden, snowdrops are settling in everywhere.

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

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

Treasures are tucked throughout the hillside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snowy Drops

Feb23

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

Snowdrops with winter aconite and a few cyclamen.

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

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

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

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

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

eranthis orange glow galanthus backhouse spectacles

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

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

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

The First day of Spring

Feb5

I’m sticking to my guns and declaring today the first day of spring. Non gardeners will spend the next three months whining and complaining about cold weather and chilly winds but some people are only happy when they’re complaining, so good for them. The sun was out and the temperatures shot up to sweatshirt weather and I did next to nothing all day, just sat around and then sat around some more. My second coffee probably took an hour to finish and hopefully I didn’t get a sunburn in the process since I was outside for that plus another few hours sitting, wandering, sitting, poking, sitting, uncovering…

The yellow snowdrops are my favorites. Here’s ‘Wendy’s Gold’ fully up for the season and pristine after spending a few days under a bucket.

In case you’re wondering how things made it through the frigid cold, they’re fine. So many things were starting to grow and I had my doubts about all those tender sprouts but only a few things took a hit and the majority look ready to take on the season at full speed. I’m glad the cold was so short lived, I think that made a huge difference.

‘Rodmarton’ wasn’t even covered and still looks good. As far as double snowdrops go I like this one a lot, with green tipped, fat blooms that stand high on sturdy stalks.

So now that spring is here I shall also announce the start of the over-sharing season where this blog fills with a monotony of white and green and sometimes yellow flowers which vary about as much as an island full of golden retrievers. Hmm. How’s that for an image? Shipwrecked sailors would run the risk of being licked to death but would likely lose consciousness first from laughing too much. But yeah, lots of snowdrops on the way so fair warning.

‘Sutton Courtney’ is also up and open. I love this one as well and she seems to be on the mend again after the gardener stupidly dumped several inches of soil on this bed to raise it some more without replanting the bulbs higher. Don’t do that.

Maybe winter will return. Maybe you’ll get a break. I don’t think so though, so if you’re going to try and stick around just get those standard ‘looks nice’, ‘oh I love them’ comments ready and you won’t even have to read a post since they’re all going to be nearly the same.

At least I’m excited. Hope you have a great week!

Spring in January

Jan30

Saturday was awesome. Nearly 50F (10C) and sunny, with just a touch of wind kicking up in the afternoon, it was the kind of weather which might be a touch warm for an Irishman but for me it was a perfect spring day… in winter of course. We are still in a weather pattern which has been luring more and more plants out of the ground and into harm’s way, and things could come crashing down any minute. Actually that minute might be this Friday night when a front is threatening to knock lows down to about zero (-17C) so we will see.

The warmth and sun have coaxed the pale yellow winter aconite (Eranthis hiemalis) into full bloom. These flowers will melt in the cold, but the plants should survive to try again in spring 2024…

Oh my gosh I have so much random babbling to get out of my system that I barely know where to start. Perhaps complaining about a lack of blog views is a perfect place to begin since I’m already on to the woe is me, the weather is getting cold for two days, pity party. 2022 ended and my stats are the lowest numbers since 2014. Rough calculations on my part show that in that same period of time the global population has grown by 253 million, so as you can see it’s even worse than you would think since even a quarter billion supposedly tech-savy babies can’t be bothered to visit my blog. Shall I change my business model or content? Maybe branch out into alternate platforms and super-connect with social media? Heh heh, you know me better than that, obviously continued laziness will be my answer, and you can expect few to none on those new tricks on the horizon.

Galanthus ‘Bess’, with ‘Richard Ayres’ behind will suffer melted blooms in near zero cold, ‘Bess’ will probably be the worst just as she was two years ago from another freeze but maybe the lazy head gardener can cover a few things to help them along.

I happened to notice my visitor stats when I received notification that 2023 will be my ten year anniversary at Sorta Like Suburbia. You can take my word that a ten year anniversary on a blog which I don’t think I started that long ago did not help me feel any younger for a recent birthday celebration. Also not helping were reminders that in another year I will be eligible for senior discounts at most of the local restaurants.

Galanthus ‘Castle Plum’ is so perfect today, and one of my favorites for an early snowdrop. Still only one bulb after several years but who am I to pressure him to start having babies?

Obviously this gardener is not the type who gets bubbly and excited for his birthday, just in case you didn’t notice. My thrill was that the weather was beautiful and my celebration was being able to finish cleaning out enough of the front street border so that the earliest flowers can come up through something other than dead twigs and windblown trash. It might be early. It might be too early, but things are coming up anyway and if I wait longer my clumsy footsteps will do more damage to the plants than this and other likely-to-still-come hard freezes.

This hellebore (unlike others in the garden) doesn’t usually suffer from extreme cold snaps. I’ll let you know how it makes it through this one.

By the way, I also noticed that my earliest posts from the golden days of this blog were much shorter and far wittier. Maybe I should at least make an effort to keep this short.

More pale eranthis (only pale ones since the normal dark yellows are still waiting for warmer days). Some of these snowdrops might make it, but they’ve also lost flowers in freezes in years past.

…and more helpful. Posts about how things should be grown and what you shouldn’t do (I’m very good at that!) might be something to reconsider rather than endless whining about how we are finally going to have two cold nights this winter.

‘Mrs Macnamara’ rarely makes it through a winter here without a beating from the cold. Last winter was so rough on her she’s actually blooming a bit sparsely this year, and if she wasn’t such a good grower I’d have sent her to a more Southern garden years ago.

So here’s my tip for sudden freezes while your plants are already in growth. Buy a greenhouse. Fill it with hardy things like snowdrops and cyclamen so that a broken heater isn’t the end of the world and it might be a fantastic diversion for when the arctic visits. It will be a great place for ‘Mrs Macnamara’ and she deserves it, doesn’t she?

‘Daphne’s Scissors’ will probably not appreciate the cold but might also be just fine. When I was reviewing this photo I noticed the vertebrae of some poor little creature’s spine at the base of the clump. I guess the garden is always an up and down, life or death kind of place.

So I don’t know how we ended up on the topic of greenhouses. Hmmm. More economical advice will be to invert an empty pot or bucket over these tender shoots and maybe that will help with icy winds or possibly to catch a few degrees of protection. It will be worth it and I’m already preparing a scolding for myself for not bothering.

The Turning of the Tides

Jan27

I had a nice surprise Tuesday morning on the way to work. The normally dark and gloomy ride was brightened up by something I haven’t seen in a while, a sunrise. To call it a sunrise is giving the event a bunch more credit than it deserves, but it was a pinkish glow spread across the edges of a smattering of clouds and was much nicer than the black abyss I’ve gotten used to over the last few weeks. It’s a hopeful moment. There will still be plenty a day before I can walk into work with an actual sun over the horizon, but until then a promising glow in the morning counts for a lot.

With or without morning sun, the first of the witch hazels (Hammamelis x ‘Pallida’) has opened up for a full-bloom show of color in the otherwise bleak landscape.

The promise of seeing daylight again on the ride to work is a nice affirmation that days really are getting longer and spring will someday be more than an idea. Nice isn’t always good though, since this week typically brings the very coldest days of the season, and getting all sentimental and hopeful weeks too early can be torture when a string of snowstorms rolls through from February to March. Actually it can get expensive as well. People get delusional about expanding vegetable gardens and starting viburnum collections and planting new cannas everywhere. People can also get judgmental toward delusional gardeners, and let me state clearly here that that’s not ok. You should never be judgmental about people just trying to make the world a better place, and that’s exactly what a February gardener is trying to do with their not-as-well-planned-as-they-could-be new plant decisions.

First blooms on a new little witch hazel. ‘Spanish Spider’ was a totally unplanned and perhaps unnecessary purchase which is proving itself invaluable and essential this week.

For now on I will consider midwinter purchases as brilliant, perhaps genius, foresight. Leave the bean-counting to accountants and go ahead and buy as many bean seeds as you think your ‘Year of the Bean’ needs. Tell the naysayers they’re the type who would drive unrecognized genius to cut off an ear, and unless they want to be part of the problem they should instead help choose a nice yellow Romano pole bean to go with the heirloom purple.

More pale yellow Eranthis hiemalis are hearing the call of spring…. or maybe winter… they are also called winter aconites after all.

So enough with the aimless babbling and back to the garden. We’re still running a good bit above average temperatures. Skiing is happening but the ice fishermen are still on the sidelines, and plants are still trying to start growing just a little too early.

Peony shoots always seem to come up too early. These Peonia daurica buds look awfully exposed but they’re really quite hardy. At least that’s one thing I won’t have to worry about.

Fingers crossed that the early sprouts mean an early spring, and not a disaster of melted and blackened tender foliage in a month or two’s time. A few things are still reeling from December’s blast.

The fall blooming snowdrops (G. elwesii ‘Barnes’ in this case) did not appreciate going from North Carolina to Newfoundland in 12 hours. I see new growth though, so I suspect all is not lost.

A Sternbergia lutea (autumn daffodil?) which might be worse than it looks. All the browned damage is right close to the bulb and the rest of the leaf might follow as the damage works its way down.

Another Sternbergia lutea just a few inches away, further out into the garden which should have been more exposed and therefore damaged, but no, it looks untouched. The narrower foliage could mean something, and it’s also from a different source. Maybe it’s just variations in the species, but who knows?

Some of the hardy cyclamen (C. hederifolium and C. coum) were blasted by the cold, but I know they’ll recover, and by the looks of these early buds there’s still a good chance for an excellent spring flowering.

Obviously I can’t leave off on a gardening report with a down note on snowdrops. They’re inching forward, and hopefully still pace themselves in spite of the continuous above average temperatures.

The double ‘Ophelia’ is moving right along and should make a great show in a few more weeks. Unlike some, I don’t think she’s ever been bothered by a later freeze.

A few snowdrops are always eager to get started. Some years it’s cold enough to hold them back to bloom alongside the later varieties, other years they pop up early, hopefully miss the worst weather, and the season is extended that many more weeks:)

‘Wendy’s Gold’ will bloom during the next nice day, I suspect Sunday or Monday… right before the possibility of two actual winter days… maybe…

So snowdrops are still good just in case you were worried, and by the way the winter garden is also still good even if winter hasn’t been as healthy as he should be.

Another year of seed cleaning and sorting is finished and now my little coffee table is all tidied up and set for the main round of seed sowing.

It’s all the usual suspects under the lights, plus a few pots of daylily seedlings for the farm. If all goes well this will become a deliciously overgrown mess again by May.

There’s always a few new things. Someone gave me a bromeliad (Neoregelia) last summer and after a billion hours of online bromeliad searching I can proudly say I still only have one and I also haven’t moved to the tropics to grow them better. Go me!

I wish I could say the same for succulents. Who knew 20 bucks on Etsy could get you a tiny box of 10 mixed Echeveria agavoides cuttings!!?? 20 more bucks can get a handful of lithop seedlings to show up at your doorstep!!

So not to brag, I think I’m handling the depths of winter quite well. Witch hazels on the way, snowdrops in bloom, and exciting things under the grow lights. I could get used to these non-winters… assuming the two days of cold next week don’t become a habit… but even if they do there’s still always those longer days, the stronger sun, and there’s only so much winter can do against that.

Have a great weekend!

A January Thaw

Feb16

Saturday I put on a sweatshirt and the Christmas lights came down. Of course the job is ten times easier when a couple extra hands join in, but surprisingly both children had much more important things to do so only the dog was there for me. He’s not quite as helpful as you might think. The lights all came down and then the porch got a good hosing off, and once that was done I rewarded myself with a little puttering around. The front foundation bed (the warmest spot in the garden) got a little cleaning up and the sprouting snowdrops are all ready to show off to best effect. Too bad we woke to actual snow the next morning.

Snowdrops up to their ankles in the white stuff again. Most are still just fine, although here and there is some singed foliage and freeze dried scapes.

You could barely call our last warmup a January thaw. First of all it’s February and second of all we barely melted the snow from the last storms and there’s still a good amount of ice in every shady bed and covering most of the lawn. I’m an optimistic early cleaner, but even I left plenty since I know the cold still has another week or so in it. Back inside to the winter garden. I’ve been taking cuttings and repotting amaryllis. Primrose are showing buds. It’s everything the outside garden isn’t.

Look at the cool foliage of this variegated pelargonium. No idea on the name, but I’ll be interested to see how much of the pink remains once the temperatures warm up.

The winter garden can use the attention since once things warm up outside I can barely be bothered with watering anything indoors. The amaryllis will be cool and a few are already showing buds, but overall the indoor gardening space is beginning to get tight with all the new pots I’ve been adding. I was joking with a friend that what I need is a spring garage sale to clear out everything from under the garage lights, but then what would I do if I needed a few dozen pots of succulent cuttings in June? Bet they didn’t think of that.

This red salvia is the perfect color for February. Cestrum nocturnum (night-blooming jasmine) is the taller plant and I really hope I get some blooms on it this summer.

Two pots of Cestrum nocturnum is probably one more than I need, but night-blooming jasmine is one of my latest favorite plants. It was one of those things which followed me home from a late autumn garden visit. “Take this, you’ll want this” was what I was told as branches were lopped off and pushed into my hands. Of course I dutifully added them to the haul and didn’t think much else of it until the sun began to set as I motored home again through the mountains. Slowly as the scenery turned to night I began to take notice of a sweet scent filling the car. Night-blooming jasmine is a real thing and I enjoyed a thoroughly perfumed car ride for the tail end of my trip. I’m already imagining a hot summer night where the deck is filled with a jasmine fragrance, but of course I shouldn’t count my chickens before they’ve hatched since any number of things can go wrong between now and then.

I don’t care though. It’s still February and 2022 will be the most perfect and perfumed gardening year this plot of earth has ever imagined or experienced. Weeds will be non-existent and rainfall will arrive perfectly timed and only at night. Mosquitos and gnats will lose their taste for (my) blood and I’ll practically live in the garden. And it won’t be a dirty, sweaty, often bloody life it will be all cold drinks and white shorts. Absolutely.

And if you believe that you’ll probably also believe I’m not going to mention snowdrops one more time. The forecast looks to be warming and plans are afoot for a Philly snowdropping trip late next week and I’m all ears for new gardens to visit. It will be fun I’m sure so until then enjoy your week 🙂

Happy 2022

Jan2

Last year’s resolution was quantity over quality and I may have failed in both departments when it came to this blog so why not just recycle the idea for 2022? That was easy! I don’t even have to move on to other topics like losing weight, exercise, eating healthy… I can just reach for the Nutella and grab a spoon and be done with it. Wow, January second and I’m already checking things off the to-do list 🙂

With each December milder than the last, ‘Mrs Macnamara’ has finally found my garden to her liking. Usually the cold cuts her down and beats her up, but now she’s pristine, multiplying, and maybe ready for dividing and spreading around.

Now that we’re through resolutions let me open up on what the rest of the winter will look like. Snowdrops and construction. Maybe more of the former and less of the later but I won’t even try and tone down the snowdrop obsession this year, apologies in advance.

Just a few years ago these bulk buy Galanthus elwesii would come up early but always on the spring end of winter. The last two years they’ve been surprising me in January.

Here’s all I really want to say about construction. Mud. That and the hunt for perfect rocks continues. Given long enough I think I’d have stone walls surrounding the garden, but as fill is moved back into position I’m not as tempted to actually dig rocks back up.

The stoneyard, or snake condo as my friend Kimberly would likely call it.

Temperatures are dropping today and things will freeze up, and maybe the mud won’t be as depressing if you can actually walk over it rather than through it, so to prepare for ‘maybe winter’ here’s a photo from my ‘maybe greenhouse’ aka ‘winter garden’ in the back of the garage.

I knew I killed almost all my cyclamen, so last spring I started a few primula for winter blooms. January first they came inside and under lights and I hope will soon amaze me with fantastic color.

So you’re aware, snowdrops and construction will be dropped as soon as it gets really cold outside. These primrose coming into the garage are only the tip of the winter garden iceberg, and I may be guilty of a few too many cuttings and containers this winter and it’s only barely January. Oh well. It’s not like I’ve started any seeds… yet…

Here’s to a happy and healthy 2022. We could all use it 🙂

Import 241 Images? Of Course!

Mar19

A few pictures were taken last weekend and I suspect this weekend will be worse. Ample warnings have been given, so now it’s up to you to proceed at your own risk. I shall try to be as brief as possible but even with that, photo per post limits will be broken. If you’re the type who feels obligated to read and leave comments I suggest a scroll to the bottom and give a quick “Oh they look nice Frank. Good for you!” and that’s it.

Snowdrop season is here after all and my filter is down.

A completely averagely perfect snowdrop to start. ‘Bess’ couldn’t flower more, but last year lost everything in a late freeze. It all comes around and I love her this year 🙂

‘Magnet’ was one of the first here. One bulb which has split up into a puddle of white, and I suspect this year he can split again to start that drift.

They’re not all plain white. ‘Green Brush’ is hopefully settling in now after I lost him twice. Sometimes a good friend comes to the rescue with a replacement!

‘Trymlet’ is one of the pagoda shaped drops referred to as an ‘ipoc’. The outer segments take on the appearance of the inner and all of a sudden it’s a new look, one which I like well enough, but…

And then there’s yellow. ‘Elizabeth Harrison’ is one of the most beautiful, and still hard to find. I was thrilled when a friend offered one up as a trade, because it’s every bit as elegant as I hoped it would be.

One of my favorite late winter views is here under the cherry. White snowdrops, magenta hardy cyclamen coum, yellow winter aconite (Eranthis). One of my first bulb books had a grander view with the same plants and I never thought I’d get even this close.

One of the winter aconite is Eranthis xtubergenii ‘Sachsengold’. It’s a E. hyemalis, E cilicica cross with the more divided foliage of its one parent. That of course doesn’t matter, but to me it does 🙂

This bed also contains the unique ‘Blewbury Tart’, the first of many Alan Street snowdrop discoveries and possibly the one which ignited his future in horticulture. Found almost fifty years ago, he must have been a toddler at the time.

I am the ‘Walrus’. A little bit was given to me two years ago and he’s finally come of age. I hope he sticks around, because I love him of course! Who would have thought a snowdrop would morph into this.

This little nivalis has a smudge of green on the tips. We call it ‘Friendship’ and although it’s barely anything special it gets passed around and it’s one of my favorite treasures.

Speaking of tiny things that aren’t anything special yet are everything special, here’s crocus gargaricus ssp. herbertii. The name is bigger than the plant, but I was ecstatic to see the golden flowers this spring even if I was the only one to notice them. It’s been awol for two years and I thought for sure it had gone to that big compost heap in the sky. Thankfully not.

In case you were wondering, winter became serious, the foxglove smothering ‘Bill Bishop’ suffered its usual demise, and Bill rose up through the withered remains. I of course ended up doing nothing, just like I prefer.

After six years galanthus ‘Art Nouveau’ has become a clump. For some reason that’s good enough and I don’t need drifts of this one. It’s kinda too special for a drift and what I should really do is divide and fertilize. A well fed bulb shows even longer inners and the extra space would let them really show off.

‘Bloomer’ is another favorite. The almost-yellow of the pale ovaries looks awesome here amongst the blue fescue.

Just a few inches down the bed, ‘Mrs. Thompson’ is for once showing off her fickle three, four, double, or twin, flowers. She just does whatever she wants. For me it’s the first time she’s done that here.

If you’re still holding up ok here’s a break from snowdrops. Crocus heuffelianus ‘tatra shades’ was amazing for all of the 48 hours it took the rabbits to find it. I guess the rabbits need their spring tonic just as much as I do.

*Schadenfreude* – the German word for pleasure one gets out of another’s misfortune. ‘Gerard Parker’ was one of my most prolific drops. He went from one to a clump of forty bulbs in just a few seasons so I moved him to a “better” spot for more showing off. It was going to be amazing I thought… until it wasn’t. Two years of late freezes nearly wiped him out and now he’s moved back to where he started. Finally he looks healthy again.

I love this view. ‘Diggory’ is in front with ‘Wendy’s Gold behind’. This is just plain showing off, but if you look at the bottom right there are two Diggory seedlings. They look nearly identical but don’t have that curl that dad (well actually mom) does, and I absolutely need to move them out to another spot before they mix in hopelessly.

Elsewhere in the garden are more seedlings. In front of ‘The Wizard’ are two siblings, one who shares dad’s green outer mark, and another without. Of course these also need new homes, but fortunately they’re a little easier to single out as seedlings.

Not a seedling but a newer one with a different kind of green marking. ‘Greenfinch’ has elegant lines on nice rounded outers, and guess what? I love it!

This one is brand new this year from an ‘in the green’ planting last spring. Some people complain vehemently about the risks of moving actively growing ‘in the green’ snowdrops, but I rarely have trouble when they arrive well cared for. I really love this one, it’s named ‘Angelina’ and it’s a newer drop which I paid an embarassingly high amount for but I don’t care.

This one was not a lot of money. It’s a plain old Galanthus elwesii from a bulk bulb order. It was probably 60 cents and although it looks amazing and yellow and therefore rare and valuable… it’s probably not. Sometimes cold and a foot or two of snow on top will have your drops coming up yellow and although it’s fun it’s not that uncommon. You can see the one behind is pulling a similar prank.

Another cruel prank was that half this ‘Viridipice’ clump has vanished. I’ll dig this weekend for clues, but it won’t be the first time a batch of newly planted dry bulbs does fine the first year and then disappears the next. usually it’s the G. nivalis types that pull this trick for me.

You’ve almost made it. Here’s some relief from endless closeups. Even if a few of the photos look nice, there’s still much to be desired here in terms of garden design, so it will still be a few years before the tour busses show up.

One of the goodies in this back bed is ‘Erway’. He’s kind of a weirdo with his conehead top, but you may have noticed that weird carries a lot of weight in the world of snowdrops.

Weird works, but so does big. ‘Moortown’ has strong, heavy flowers with a nice inner mark which bleeds up with a smear of green. Of course it’s another favorite, and unlike the photo implies it’s a pure white snowdrop.

Wow, even I’m getting tired now. Just a few more. ‘Baylham’ is one of the few doubles I like. Small, well formed, nicely upright and normally a strong green color.

Speaking of strong green color, ‘Jade’ is looking exceptionally green this spring. Actually you could just leave that as looking exceptional, because he is.

…and Sunday’s evening light leaves you off with a waterfall of ‘Percy Picton’. Normally I complain about his sprawling ways but this year, without a couple inches of snow flattening out the blooming clump, he looks great.

You made it. I forgive you for skimming. There’s no doubt I’m deep into this and hopefully for your sake my camera breaks this weekend.

But then there’s always the phone camera. Enjoy the weekend and I hope it’s sunny and safe wherever you’re at!

Winter Rages?

Jan13

The next three weeks are typically when winter throws its worst at us. The average low dips down to around 18F (-7C) at night, and then climbs to 34F (1C) in the day, depending on all kinds of things of course, and the long nights and short days don’t set the garden up for much of anything. That’s a normal year. Besides all the other more obvious ups and downs, the weather last year was not normal, and in fact was one of our hottest years on record. 12 days in and 2021 isn’t looking to be the culture and climate shift everyone was hoping for. Actually it looks a lot more like December 37, 2020.

This gardener prefers to use stylish and unobtrusive 5 gallon buckets to protect the earliest snowdrops from the coldest winds and heaviest snows of winter. Here’s ‘Potter’s Prelude’ uncovered to enjoy the next few days of mild weather.

For a minute I’ll ignore the past and just enjoy this mild weather which draws these snowdrops up out of the ground. Most of what’s flowering now would be fall bloomers in a milder climate but here they usually dawdle enough that flowering happens in winter, which should be fun, but for many the weather is just too much and the flowers (and foliage) end up destroyed. Viva la global warming! These days I have snowdrops blooming all winter… until we get a plunge in February of course, and then even with buckets galore, things still look like someone named Winter trampled through the beds with some heavy cleated snow boots on.

I moved a fall blooming Galanthus elwesii ssp monostictus hiemelis group ex Montrose (catch breath*) to a warmer spot to hopefully bring on earlier blooming, but it didn’t. Still it seems much happier here and has been in bloom over a month!

I’ve been trying to find a perfect spot to make life easier on these little treasures. It’s worked in a few cases but some still aren’t happy regardless of where I have them growing. When the cold comes the flowers burn and the foliage dies back. Some struggle afterwards, some go to the light, but I do have one who just shrugs it off. ‘Three Ships’ (Galanthus plicatus ‘Three Ships’) has never shown a bit of damage in spite of ice and snow and cold. He’s never made it into bloom for Christmas, which is the trick he’s best known for, but he is a snowdrop who choses to grow and flower just as the weather is at it’s worst and for that holds place as one of my favorites.

Today’s sunshine and just barely above freezing air temperatures have brought out ‘Three Ships’.

For the first few years I assumed the cold would do this little nut in. What sane snowdrop would grow more as the temperatures dropped further? Tender shoots and sub zero weather should not mix, but one shoot became two, two became four, and rather than die, ‘Three Ships’ is becoming a clump.

Not just a hardy snowdrop, but also a beautiful snowdrop. Heavy textured, rounded blooms with soft green inner markings. I love the ridges and the way the flowers puff out in the sun.

So right now the snowdrops are loving it. It’s like winter in the North Carolina mountains, and although some more cold and snow would make for better skiing, I don’t mind mediocre skiing on Monday followed by snowdrops on Tuesday.

Be safe and have a great week!

Winter Arrives?

Jan7

With the calendar turning over for the official start of a new year, I had the opportunity to see my blogging stats as a year end summary. I usually expect a disappointing show but how exciting to see that for the first time since 2016 my visitors and views have actually increased! I’ll still point out that there was far more interest in this blog five years ago than there is today, but I guess any move to the plus side is worth celebrating, and I think my first move will be to show off these numbers to my bank account. It’s been slacking in the numbers department as well, and this might be just the inspiration it’s been waiting for.

A former vegetable bed has filled with hydrangeas and other things more colorful than vegetables. Now a messy mulch of leaves looks suspiciously like the cover for a future snowdrop bed. Hmmmm.

My concerns over declining views are matched only by my race to improve them. In the last four years I’ve done nothing. That could be part of it, but at least the weather was beautiful last Saturday and I was able to do something outside and actually weeded a few spots and spread a little mulch. Not bad for January, and I think I’m as set as I will be for the earliest spring bloomers, some of which have mistaken sunny days in the 50’s for the end of an extremely short winter.

Mrs Macnamara is an early riser, but unfortunately this weather tricks her into being too early. In the five years she’s been here her early blooms have been destroyed five times, and I have yet to see her flowers open and look their best.

History does not bode well for an extremely short winter in this garden. A review of last year shows various things up and nearly in flower the first week of January… and then also shows the wilted, frozen mush of snowdrops and hellebores by the end of February. I doubt there’s a gardener out there who doesn’t know this same story.

I would have removed the hellebore foliage but prefer to mow it all up, and honestly the lawnmower deserves at least a few days off for winter so I’ll wait.

I guess there’s no easy way out. A more mature and sensible gardener would just not grow the plants ill suited to their garden. That’s a good idea, and you of course should do that even if I won’t.

On the advice of a better gardener I’ve started trimming the old foliage off my hellebores at anytime from late December on. Tender, easily damaged shoots seem to show up whether the leaves are removed or not.

I apologize for speaking of warm sun while showing gloomy snow and sleet but one of the blog stats which stood out for me was that this blogger used to post twice as much. Because Saturday was a beautiful, busy day and no photos were taken, I was forced to go out Sunday into the sleet for something to blog about. Quantity over quality is my new mantra and we will see if more frequent posts will be the secret to overwhelming my site counter and bringing on that lucrative movie deal I’m still hoping for.

Or spring. I won’t mind if more frequent posts bring on spring 🙂

sorta like suburbia

more than you ever wanted to know about my garden

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