Early February is not spring but the plants don’t seem to know, and even if the weather has drifted cooler since these photos were taken, it’s still an unusually mild “winter”.
The first winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) have opened. These are a pale yellow version which is always a bit earlier than the straight species.
Although the days are getting noticeably longer we’re still just barely into the upswing of winter. It takes a while to shift from cooling to warming and these should still be some of the coldest days of the winter, but they’re not, and the weird season has some plants behaving oddly. Some are ahead, some are unconvinced, and others still think it’s fall.
Up and blooming earlier than ever, these giant snowdrops (Galanthus elwesii) are showing a bit of green on tips which have never shown green before. In 14 years of growing this one, I think I would have noticed.
In the end it’s out of my control so no sense in too much hand wringing. Saturday morning I threw on a sweatshirt, pulled out the hedge trimmers, chopped down and raked out the front bed, mowed it all up, threw it back on to the bed and called it ready to go for 2020. Spring cleanup before getting any advice from the groundhog is unprecedented but the spring bulbs do need a clean slate to show off against!
Not the neatest look, but by May it will look fine and I’m sure I’ll find plenty of other things to do now that spring cleanup here is complete!
It was a slow start. A head cold had me second guessing the work, and the weeks of couch sitting didn’t exactly have me feeling any younger, but it was nice to finally burn off a few Christmas cookies. That and there were snowdrops to enjoy 🙂
Galanthus ‘Godfrey Owen’ is usually up and blooming during our first warm spell. It’s a favorite of course.
So now begins the usual forecast watching which has me worrying about every ice storm and polar blast which could stomp these early joys. Fingers crossed it’s not the usual flower frying blast in March and instead is a gentle and gradual warming that encourages the most amazing show of spring bloom that we have ever experienced. One can hope. If all else fails I’d like just one sunny dry perfect day to enjoy the drops. Having it happen on a Saturday wouldn’t hurt either 😉
So here we are in late January and winter still hasn’t put up much of a fight. I fought the urge last time and took the Christmas lights down instead, but this weekend’s rain and above freezing weather was too much and it broke me down. The snowdrops are coming up all over the front foundation beds and of course I need to see them clearly… plus the ski season stinks.
This is the after picture, and is probably as good as cleanup gets for this bed. The keenest eyes may spot a few snowdrops 🙂
I have a tendency to do my spring cleanups early but this winter you barely know if it’s a really late fall job or if this already qualifies as spring. Time will tell. One thing you can be sure of is that my need to tidy up every last stray leaf and twig has evaporated as I get older. Older and wiser maybe? The leaves disappear quickly as new sprouts come up and hide them, and they’re small enough that they break down into the soil again before summer is too far along. If they were bigger and tougher leaves like oak or sycamore I’d rake them off and run over them with the mower before throwing them back on the beds, but they’re not and that makes for a quick tidying up. The twigs and stems and cut back hellebore leaves were carted off to the back yard, I didn’t want to attract too much attention running them through the mower in January since I just recently made fun of my neighbor for doing the same.
Verbena bonariensis and lettuce seedlings, both surviving the cold just fine. It will be interesting to see what all makes it through the winter this year… assuming we don’t get slammed in March.
Maybe I’ll run all the trimmings through the mower in February. The ten day forecast shows a dip in to the teens and then another warming trend through Groundhog Day and beyond, so early February doesn’t look any more promising for snowy slopes than January was. I’ll try to cope 😉
Spring arrived last week. There it was right in front of me, the thermometer was roaring to the top and everyone was thrilled by the high numbers. Records keep breaking and coats were thrown aside as ridiculously overcautious and we embraced the sun. Surely that weak, orange sun was the reason things were so warm.
Galanthus ‘Potters Pride’, typically in bloom for the end of November Thanksgiving table, has only now been coaxed out of the ground.
The neighborhood was bustling. Nearly everybody had a job as garages were swept and litter was cleared and the last of the holiday decorations were secured. It sure looked good. My brother in Law even pulled out the leaf blower and cleared all the riff-raff which had blown in while our backs were turned. Back into the woods it went, and a quick round with the lawnmower has everything returned to that bland, uniform, suburban look which all my neighbors seem to love.
Nothing like a freshly cut lawn in January. Mid January. In Northern Pennsylvania. For those who have let the 63F (17C) high get to our heads, our normal lows for this time of year should be closer to 17F (-8C).
The last three months have been filled with erratic ups and downs, but the ups are all we care about. I have snowdrops sprouting and in full bloom outside and it’s the middle of January and that must be good.
Galanthus ‘Three Ships’ up and blooming last week. Although ‘Three Ships’ hails from milder climates and is known for its Yuletide arrival, here in the colder zones it struggle to reach port by the end of January in a “normal” winter.
But in spite of the early sprouts and premature color something still feels wrong. The sun keeps claiming it’s perfect, and he deserves all the credit for this unusual warmth but most everyone else can see it’s near the lowest point of its year. I wish my plants would check this out, but no they just keep fixating on these temperature numbers. Who cares about tomorrow.
The first of the witch hazels to open here is Hamamelis ‘pallida’. Full bloom and it’s about a month early.
Oh well. When it gets cold I’ll just shelter in place and ride it out. As usual the weather will take out the most vulnerable and either kill them outright or set them back for a few years, but it happens and in spite of warnings the plants never learn.
I’ll protect my favorites though. Some plants just agree with everything I do and even if I’m the most incompetent gardener they always make me either feel good or look like I’m winning. Right now with colder weather and snow briefly returning it’s the winter garden that’s got all the good stuff.
The Cyclamen coum growing under lights are starting their show. Hardy enough to survive outdoors I just like keeping a few inside to enjoy.
My winter garden in the garage is a nice escape from the real world. Under the fluorescent shop lights I have a few plants pretending they’re not part of this Pennsylvania garden and also a few that are just too tender to make it on their own. This year’s wunderkind is the pot of galanthus seedlings I have coming up. A friend gave me the seed last winter and although a few sprouted then, the bulk have waited until now to start coming up. Realistically they would be better off in the garden, but here I can admire them endlessly and imagine the hundreds of blooms which are sure to follow… in three or four years… assuming I don’t kill them… just like I’ve killed all the others…
Snowdrop seedlings. They still have a long way to go but just think of the possibilities!
I’ve been off my seed-starting kick for a few years now but stuff like this is still irresistible. There’s so much variability in these seed grown bulbs that I’m excited just thinking about what could be. I guess that’s what optimism looks like when the nights are still so long, since there’s still bound to be a three year wait at least. In the meantime three years can pass quickly, and three years ago I started some narcissus seed, and three years later I have a bloom!
Some type of hoop petticoat daffodil. The seed were labeled as narcissus romieuxii something-something but they’re not the pale yellow I was expecting, so I’m not committing to a full name yet.
Non-hardy daffodils growing under lights is practically a gateway drug to greenhouse thoughts, so fortunately I don’t have much access to more seed but in these unsettled times you never know. An offer for more seeds would be much better news than what usually shows up.
In the meantime this winter could end up anywhere. History shows that these fake warmups always end up badly but maybe I should just hide out in the winter garden and hope for the best. Maybe this time we’ll only get the tornado rather than the tornado, hail and lightning storm.
A stroll in the garden last Thursday reveled only one thing. It’s boring. Boring is probably not the worst thing since there have been tours which brought on anger, apathy, or disgust, but the tour did not bring on wonder or excitement, and for me that daily change or new surprise is what makes the yard so interesting.
The hardy cyclamen (this one is Cyclamen hederifolium) is pretty exciting now that the foliage is up, but I’ve seen it all before, and should really give a few of the cool new seedlings some room to develop.
I suppose I could find something to do and give the garden a scorched earth cleanup, rounding up every stray leaf and eliminating every dead and dried stalk, but that’s even more boring. The birds will need something to pick through, and in January a few old seedheads holding the snow will give a little more interest to otherwise dull drifts. So instead I cut and placed a few chicken wire cages to protect the most treasured shrubs from their annual bunny shearing.
Previously the rabbits around here were as lazy as I am, and if they had to even push aside a tuft of grass to get to a carrot they wouldn’t bother. But now they’ve become empowered, and I have to protect things like this ‘Diane’ witch hazel with these attractive wire cages.
My friend Kathywas right. Deer may not like witch hazels, but bunnies do, and if you’re thinking good for me to put this protection in place before any real damage occurs, you’re being excessively optimistic in regards to my laziness. The new witch hazels should have been caged up weeks ago as more tender things in the garden dried up, but no, it wasn’t until the first one was nipped off at four inches that I figured it was time. Fast forward another week when the second hazel was nipped to the ground that I finally got moving.
One last succulent has earned its right to a winter spent inside. After Echeveria runyonii ‘Topsy Turvy’ survived a few heavy frosts and downright freezes I could no longer turn my back on the pot and into the garage it came. I wonder just how hardy this thing really is?
I actually did find one bit of excitement while planting some not-really-wanted colchicums (they were supposed to be white… not pink). The excitement wasn’t the tulip bulbs I sliced through when digging a hole, the excitement was a stray snowdrop in full bloom in a spot where I’ve only ever planted spring varieties.
A November snowdrop. Two years after planting bulk Galanthus elwesii here, this one decides to beat the neighbors and open a few months and a whole season early. I’ll be curious to see what it thinks next year.
Not to end on a down note, but this little November snowdrop is now encased (hopefully not entombed) in ice just waiting for the first larger snowfall of the season to happen. I’d show pictures but would prefer to keep this a family friendly blog and will instead show a photo from the Thanksgiving trip which the impending storm cut short.
Deer along the beach of the Long Island Sound. The wide open blue skies of the beach always recharge my outdoor batteries in a way the woodsy mountains and valleys of Pennsylvania don’t.
Things can’t be all that bad when you’re cozy inside and the weather happens on the other side of the window, so I can’t complain, but what ever storms come your way I hope they’re easy on your neck of the woods, and even if they’re snowy, I hope you have a great week!
A few years ago I was introduced to an excellent new holiday. Maybe holiday is a bit strong but January’s a pretty dull month and coming off of a three day warming spell has me optimistic that winter might not go on forever… even if it does feel that way most of the time.
I first heard about ‘Post-Solstice’ over at the always inspiring macgardens.org, and it’s described as that unofficial point where the earth has tilted back towards the sun just enough to start warming this hemisphere back up again. It takes a while to get things moving on this big old planet of ours, and although December 21st was the shortest day with the least amount of solar warmth hitting the Northern half, it’s not until one month later around January 21st that we start turning the tide back to warmer days. To help with the celebrations this year there was a special treat. The first snowdrop is up, popping out just hours after the rain melted the last snow and ice away from this spot.
A surprise in our January thaw, the first of this winter’s snowdrops. Galanthus ‘Three Ships’ in case you’re wondering.
A lone snowdrop doesn’t make spring, and I’m sure I’ll be out there covering it up during the next arctic blast, but for now it sure does give a little bit of hope. There are other sprouts as well but I’ll only bore you with one more photo.
More snowdrops showing signs of life. I wish I could say the same for the winter-burned hellebore foliage but I’ve long given up on worrying about things like that.
It’s nice to see things as anxious as I am to start the new gardening year. We have already added just over thirty minutes of daylight to each day and that goes higher with every sunset and before we know it the whole adventure will start anew!
In hindsight this is the time of year when winter interest should take center stage, and the addition of conifers to the winter garden is probably the best way to keep the yard attractive during the bleakest of winter months. I’ve heard that and have seen it in print as well, and even the most reluctant gardener will throw a few evergreens around the house as the first step in crafting an attractive landscape. The message is out, and the majority of houses around here have a sensible foundation planting filled with neatly trimmed yews and junipers and whatever else can snuggle up to the house for year round appeal.
Our own slightly less neat foundation plantings, with respectable holly, juniper, and chamaecyparis plantings lined up along the foundation.
Why this gardener would chose December to remove a large juniper from a prominent front-of-the-house location is foolish enough, but to replace it with a small ninebark (Physocarpus opulifolius ‘Amber Jubilee) is over into the not so smart category. Reliable evergreen replaced with small clump of deciduous twigs… maybe you can understand that ‘uh-oh’ feeling I had as I stood there holding the saw and staring at a pile of juniper branches.
If you look closely you might be able to see the newest addition to this foundation planting. It’s right there at the center of the gaping hole which was created when the juniper was removed.
In all honesty I never liked the juniper. It made me itch and bored me and even though there were a thousand better things which I could be doing I suddenly needed to plant that ninebark at that minute even though I was right in the middle of putting up the Christmas lights. As long as we’re opening up here, the Christmas lights were turning into a whole other project in themselves.
A Longwood inspired twig archway with lights. Lots of lights.
The reason I had the saw out in the first place was because I needed to take a walk in the woods and cut down and drag back enough birch trees to make a decent arch leading onto the porch. I’m pretty sure a twig archway was what our holiday decorations have been lacking.
Speaking of things lacking, this blog has been lacking a snowdrop photo for months and since so many of you have been asking how the snowdrops are doing I guess it’s time to jump back into that world. Here’s a batch of fall bloomers which my friend Paula shared with me a couple years ago. They’re out on the driveway for this photo but have since moved into the garage in anticipation for the approaching cold… lows for next week show numbers around 10F (-12C) and that’s just not appropriate for such an innocent little flower… or for the box of tulip bulbs which just showed up on the doorstep this afternoon.
Fall blooming giant snowdrops (Galanthus elwesii) with a nice green pattern to the inners.
If pushed I’d have to admit that no one has actually asked about the snowdrops, but I’m sure they were wondering and I didn’t want to rudely ignore that.
Now I’m off to check out something I can’t even ignore for a minute. Pamela at Pam’s English Garden has put up the post detailing her own recent visit to Longwood Gardens. I knew she was there within a few days of my own visit and I’ve been looking forward to seeing her own impressions of the decorations. I hope she doesn’t point out a bunch of cool things which I missed!
It appears this garden and most of the East Coast are still going over one more speedbump on the road to spring. Today we welcomed a little over two feet of snow into the garden, and I suspect it will be a bit before (a) the kids return to school, and (b) I need to fertilize the lawn.
I might be early on this decision but I’m considering this as the 2017 Tuesday view. Under all the snow is the mixed plantings of the street border, a name I came up with all by myself based on the fact it’s a border and it runs along the street 😉
Some might say 2017 has been off to a rough start, and they might be right, but I’m going to try and think about other things such as Cathy’s Tuesday View and consider the border along the street as my entry for this year. Posting every week might be a stretch, but maybe showing this view once every other week will be do-able. We’ll see.
Two feet of March snow is excellent fort building material and the front yard is a battleground of trenches and tunnels… plus buried snowdrops and crocus.
Right now the view doesn’t really matter though. People are still digging out and cars and trucks are being pulled out (as our evening walk down to the main street demonstrated) and we just have to deal with that first. The forecast ahead is cold, but the sun when it comes out will be strong, and hopefully there’s something left to look forward to when all this snow melts… since the snowdrops have already given up on spring.
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!
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.
An actual greenhouse would be awesome. To spend the winter nights out in the humid warmth… or even sweater-cool, as long as you can smell that healthy dampness of growing plants, would be a fantastic break from the dry static of central heating. Since that’s not going to happen anytime soon I’ve got to make do somehow and to that end I have my little winter garden. It’s two shop lights hung over a table in the small workshop behind the garage. That’s the reality, but the magic is much more, and of course as with everything else I try to do there’s a story involved.
The first of the Cyclamen coum (a nice seedling flowering for the first time), a snowdrop dug from the garden (Galanthus elwesii), and the frilled leaves of a scented geranium are filling the space beneath the lights this year.
Santa brought the kids electric scooters this year, and that has nothing to do with winter gardens but they needed a spot cleared in the garage near an outlet for charging. Space is tight in the garage so obviously I needed to clean the attached furnace room first. A day later the furnace room was cleaned and I had room in there for a few bikes, but the cannas and dahlia roots in the furnace room needed a cooler spot. They had to go into the workshop which had now become remarkably full and as a result also needed tidying up. A day later with the workshop cleaned and the bulbs stashed away I made the observation that the workbench was really unacceptable as far as winter gardens go. A few years before we bought this house a pipe burst in the workshop, all was soaked, and the pressboard workbench soaked, sagged, and warped. It was time to replace the top so off to the DIY store for lumber and hardware. A day later and the old top was off and a new one had been crafted, more than doubling the tabletop and practically calling for another light to be added, so of course another light was added.
Merry Christmas to me. A ridiculous clearance sale on amaryllis bulbs left me with eight new ones and the repaired workbench is the perfect place to pot them up. Don’t even ask me how hard it is to find terracotta pots during the holiday season….
So one more day for the stain and polyurethane to dry and then finally I was able to bring in a few things for under the lights. Just in time since the Cyclamen coum were beginning to flower and I was tired of dragging them in and out of the garage with every frigid weather forecast.
Twice the growing space of years past and already nearly full. Overwintering cuttings share space with cyclamen and various too-special-to-be-outside seedlings under the growlights.
I should have tackled this job on a pleasant summer weekend, but at that time the lawnchair was so much more inviting. Had I been ready to go at the start of the season (or had I built that coldframe I wanted) then maybe these seedling pots of tulips and allium wouldn’t have started to sprout in the garage, and maybe I wouldn’t be the only person in NE Pennsylvania growing species tulips indoors under growlights in January….
Hellebore and cyclamen seedlings growing in the winter garden. The small wisps in the other pots are tulips, allium, and a single fritillaria seedling. The economics of spending years nursing along seedlings which are available cheaply (100 blooming sized bulbs for $14 last time I checked) is something else we shouldn’t look at too closely.
To wrap up my ‘How I spent my Christmas vacation’ essay I’ll just add that on the last day I moved an air compressor and rabbit hutch onto a shelf and was able to plug in the scooters. Don’t ask me how I didn’t see that a week earlier.
After two rainy days of 55F (13C) weather the soil has thawed and the first winter aconites have broken the surface. I think they’re perfect and they should be fine even if winter does decide to come this year.
Now I’m all set. Even though I spotted the first winter aconite (Eranthis hyemalis) breaking out of the earth this weekend I think winter will still make an attempt at cold before the robins can come home. Today in between rain showers I put up the bird feeder, braced the pole against tipping out of the mucky quagmire of lawn it sits in, and drug a flat of primula seedlings into the workshop. Now when the cold hits, repotting a flat of young primrose should be just the diversion for a dark winter evening.
