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Snowdrops, Winter Aconites, Crocus: Garden Bloggers Bloom Day March 2010

Kathy Purdy — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 01:23:46 +0000

Another March, another mud season in full swing. The snowdrops that had barely opened five days ago are now in full flower:

These snowdrops were just budding five days ago

Galanthus nivalis in the Secret Garden

The snowdrops that were buried under snow on March 7th are now in full bud, as you can see on the left. This is the path in the Secret Garden that I brag on every year about this time. These snowdrops all came from a single clump given to me, well, I don’t remember exactly when–at least thirteen years ago, maybe more. I did not know they would do so well when I planted them. As a matter of fact, I planted a few in another location when I originally planted these, and they petered out. Can you imagine how splendiferous these would be, if I had managed to dig some up and divide them every year?

These winter aconites are blooming on the north side of the house

This is the third year winter aconites are blooming in Purdyville. Dare I believe they are here to stay, after several previous failed attempts? We can see these from the bathroom and laundry room windows, so they cheer us on the blustery days when no one wants to venture outside.

You have to turn a double snowdrop upside down to see the exquisitely layered petals.

The double snowdrops are blooming, too. I can see them from the kitchen door, even though they are on the far side of the yard. And for the record, if it had been sunny today, I would have had my first crocus blooming as well:

Almost, but not quite in time for bloom day, these crocus are waiting for sunshine

Inspired by the words of Elizabeth Lawrence, “We can have flowers nearly every month of the year,” Carol of May Dreams Gardens started Garden Bloggers Bloom Day. On the 15th of every month, garden bloggers from all over the world publish what is currently blooming in their gardens, and leave a link in Mr. Linky and the comments of May Dreams Gardens.

Choose locations to plant fall bulbs now

Kathy Purdy — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 03:13:38 +0000

In January, the snowdrops in the Secret Garden looked like this:

Snowdrops in the Secret Garden January 2010

This Sunday just passed–March 7th–those same snowdrops looked like this:

Those same snowdrops in early March

Such are the vagaries of an upstate New York winter. Since then, the temperatures have been mild and the sunshine brilliant, and the snow is receding. This, my fellow cold climate gardeners, is the best time to decide where to plant your earliest spring bulbs. Look around, no, better yet–grab your camera, and record the places in your garden where the snow melts first.

Snow melts first around the base of trees, even stumps

The snow melts in damp areas first, though bulbs for this site must tolerate soggy soil.

The south-facing areas amongst shrubs are another good place for the earliest bulbs

Plant some early bulbs by a corner of the house that traps heat.

South-facing areas near pavement are the best of all. Can you see the snowdrops?

Here I followed my own advice, and in a previous year planted some Galanthus ‘S. Arnott’ in an area that always melts first. I chose this particular snowdrop because it is both large and early. As a matter of fact, a few of them bloomed today, though I didn’t manage to get a picture.

Label Your Images

As you may have noticed, these images don’t look like much. If you don’t rename your images, tag them, write captions for them, or whatever your photo managing program permits, you will look at them in July and wonder, “What was I thinking? Why did I take a bunch of photos of dirty, tired snow?” Put them in a folder labeled Plant Bulbs Here and make a note in your calendar to order them in June, when there are discounts for early online orders.

Which Bulbs Are the Earliest?

Of the commonly available snowdrops, Galanthus elwesii is the earliest. Winter aconites (Eranthis spp.) are reputedly equally as early, though they have not been so for me. I am not sure if they are coming back this year. When they like your garden, they really take off. The small species crocus bloom soon after the snowdrops for me. Two to three weeks after the very first blooms, the larger Dutch crocus, the Siberian squills, and the glory-of-the-snow (Chionodoxa) are all blooming. By then it’s a whole different ball game.

First Snowdrops: Status update

Kathy Purdy — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 22:47:07 +0000

First snowdrops bloomed today *and* it got up to 61F. Yes, mud season is here!

Black Plants: Book Review

Kathy Purdy — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 02:36:18 +0000

Korean angelica

Black Plants: 75 Striking Choices for the Garden by Paul Bonine is the kind of book that drives me wild. Seventy-five gorgeous plants and over half of them are not hardy for me. Wait. Maybe it’s just that half of the ones I want to grow aren’t hardy for me. I actually didn’t go through the book and count. At any rate, if you are a beginning cold climate gardener, stay away from this book. It will make you feel like there’s nothing you can grow in Zone 4.

Sooty sweet William

If you’re a veteran gardener who has earned her icicles, just be warned this book incites plant lust and empty-walletitis. (Hey, if Carol at May Dreams Gardens can make up words, so can I.) Did you know there is a dark-foliaged rhododendron, ‘Ebony Pearl’? The color of its flowers is not even mentioned, but it is supposedly hardy to Zone 5. Maybe you knew about ‘Black Scallop’ ajuga, but I didn’t. (Its foliage is featured as the background image on the book’s cover.) I’d really love to grow the purple-leaved grape, but it’s only hardy to Zone 6. Sigh. And I wonder if Trillium chloropetalum ‘Volcano’ would do well in my Northeast garden, since it is native to the Northwest of North America? It’s hardy to Zone 5, but not all trilliums do well in other parts of the continent. These are the kinds of thoughts this book inspires.

Black pansy

There are no sources listed for any of these plants; you’ll have to hunt them down on your own. In some cases I thought the hardiness zone was a bit optimistic; Voodoo Lily in Zone 5? And the dahlias were rated as Zone 8, but if you grow them as annuals it doesn’t matter. (There are other plants listed as annuals, so I guess some people grow dahlias as perennials?) With a stack of catalogs at your feet and a cup of something warm by your side, this book is a fine accessory to the winter garden dreaming we do when it’s snowing outside, which, this winter, applies to more southern gardeners than I ever would have imagined.

The three flowers pictured all grew in my garden this summer and are featured in Black Plants. (Click on any of the images to see a larger image.) Timber Press sent me a complimentary copy to review.

The Great Houseplant Census of 2010

Kathy Purdy — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 21:53:39 +0000

Mr. McGregor’s Daughter, in an effort to promote domestic harmony*, has requested gardeners everywhere to tally up the number of plants they currently have growing inside. Here are my results:

Outdoor Plants Wintering Over

1 rosemary
1 ‘Rehoku Sunrise’ carex (an experiment)
1 apple seedling (my middle daughter’s experiment)
1 orange tree grown from seed by my 16 year old son

Year Round Houseplants

4 Aloe vera
2 Christmas cactus
1 Thanksgiving cactus
1 ivy (my eldest daughter’s)
1 stem of wandering Jew, rooting in water (also my eldest daughter’s)

Forced Bulbs

8 hyacinths (pictured above)
5 Soleil d’Or narcissus (there are actually more narcissus, but some aren’t sprouting)

For a grand total of 26 plants. I would have guessed half that, but then, I probably would have counted the pots of forced bulbs as one each, and I wouldn’t have counted my children’s plants. Good thing we haven’t started any seeds yet!

What about you? Do you know how many houseplants you really have? Do you dare to find out? If so, submit your tally here.

*If you have more indoor plants than Mr. McGregor’s Daughter, you promote her domestic harmony.

How Do You Know If A Plant Is Hardy?

Kathy Purdy — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 18:57:14 +0000

I was just reading Graham Rice’s musings on plants that grow in the coldest climates. He observed that the resources he consulted did not agree on which plants were tough enough to take USDA zone 2. If you’ve been gardening for any length of time (which of course Graham has), this won’t surprise you.

First, there is the matter of statistics. The fewer people gardening in a certain zone, the less data available on any particular plant. I imagine with a lot of plants, to say it’s hardy to zone 2 is as much an educated guess as it is a tested hypothesis.

And then there are so many factors affecting plant hardiness besides air temperature that some people think the whole concept of hardiness zones is a joke. Ellen Hornig of Seneca Hill Perennials admits, “We include hardiness zones largely to pander to popular prejudice and give you a small degree of guidance.” Tony Avent provides a detailed analysis of the problems inherent in the concept of hardiness zones.

But you’ve got to start somewhere. That’s where other local gardeners are a tremendous help. If anyone is going to know what will make it in your garden, it’s someone with the same growing conditions. And many people who are still too isolated to find a local garden buddy now have the benefit of internet access, and can consult and befriend others in similar conditions.

This caryopteris was a gamble that I lost. It failed to return after its first winter.

In the end, the only one who’s an expert on what grows in your garden is you, and you become the expert by trial and error. That means you will kill plants. You will kill plants. After a while, you won’t kill as many, because you’ll develop a better understanding of your extremely local growing conditions. By patient observation you’ll know, for example, that a certain corner is windy, the snow always melts first by the walkway, and the area by the gutter downspout is always a little bit damper.

On the other hand, I suppose you might kill more, because you may become more willing to take chances. I find my willingness to experiment is constrained by the limits of my pocketbook. I will try a perennial rated a zone or even two zones warmer if I think I can provide the other conditions it needs, perhaps shade and moist, acid soil. But I am more conservative when it comes to an expensive tree that requires a lot of digging to plant–and to dig out again when it dies. Gardeners with a bigger acquisitions budget will be braver. Wayne Winterrowd and Joe Eck, in A Year at North Hill: Four Seasons in a Vermont Garden, describe many rhododendrons in their garden that aren’t considered hardy in their zone. But there they are, grown to maturity. Winterrowd and Eck were not assured of success when they planted them.

Graham Rice has a tough job, writing about plants for an area in which he’s never gardened. I imagine after consulting reference works, he’ll talk to friends and colleagues more familiar with gardening in that rigorous climate, and maybe seek out a gardening blog or two. Northscaping, which I’ve mentioned before, is another good source of hands-on cold climate gardening information.

Lady-Slipper Seed Pods

Kathy Purdy — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 01:25:38 +0000

Remember this?

Cypripedium acaule, commonly known as Pink Lady-slipper

Now it looks like this:

Seed pods of pink lady-slipper, Cypripedium acaule

I discovered these while on my witch hazel walk.

Lady Slipper Seed Germination

As related by William Cullina in The New England Wild Flower Society Guide to Growing and Propagating Wildflowers (affiliate link):

“The typical lady-slipper seedpod contains between 10,000 and 20,00 seeds!”
The reason they have so many seeds is because the seeds lack endosperm
Without endosperm, the seeds are very light and are spread by the wind
“Without endosperm, orchid seeds cannot germinate unless they become infected by certain soil fungi [Rhizoctonia mycorrhizae], which the seedlings partially digest to obtain the sugars and nutrients necessary for growth.”
“Once a seedling has chlorophyll-containing leaves and a few roots, it . . . becomes less and less dependent on the fungus for survival.”
“At least some species of Rhizoctonia are pathogenic or disease-causing when they infect nonorchidaceous species, such as members of the Mustard family.”

Cullina states

In my experience, adequate sunlight; moisture; and a well-aerated, good organic soil with adequate fertility is all adult lady-slippers need to grow well. In fact, even small seedlings that we have received in sterile bags (growing without mycorrhizae) grow on very well in a sterile, hydroponic mix. It seems clear that once the seedlings have passed out of the critical germination stage, they can grow well in cultivated conditions without mycorrhizae.

However, Cullina says that the pink lady-slipper I have does “not adapt well to cultivation.” I plan to leave them right where they are, and I’m not messing with the seed pods. But I learned a few things tonight and thought I’d share them with you.

A Good Year for Witch Hazels

Kathy Purdy — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 14:24:24 +0000

It is a family tradition to walk up the hill and into the woods this time of year to seek out the witch hazel (Hamamelis virginiana) blossoms. This is a native shrub or small tree that prefers moist, acidic soil–which we have in abundance.

In some years, the witch hazel doesn't drop its leaves, making it more difficult to see the flowers.

This year we found many trees with the leaves already gone.

The flower-filled branches are enchanting

This is a plant that has romantic connotations for me. (Narcissus is another one.) I already told the story in a previous post, so I’ll just quote myself here:

The first autumn we lived here, my husband took me up in these woods. He was obviously looking for something, but I couldn’t figure out what. Finally, he stopped and said, “Look up.” There before us was a rather large witch hazel completely spangled with the feathery blossoms. I was enchanted. It looked like stars had fallen and gotten caught in the branches.

It’s been a long time in coming, but I think we finally have a witch hazel year equal to that memorable, almost mythic one. Honey, are you up for a walk?

Colchicums: Garden Bloggers Bloom Day October 2009

Kathy Purdy — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 04:06:42 +0000

You might think after a 26F freeze there would be nothing left blooming in the garden, but you would be wrong. The colchicums continue to shoot up new blossoms. Pictured above is Colchicum autumnale ‘Album’.

A vigorous but nondescript colchicum lines the shrubbery and looks fine from the house.

Early on in my colchicum acquisitions, I discovered three different varieties that, to my eye, were indistinguishable. It turns out a mongrel colchicum has infiltrated the ranks, and no one knows exactly what it is, but less discerning bulb houses send it out without question. The color is a bit washed out, but it is tall and vigorous.

These are the mongrel colchicums. They grow well in grass and make a good show from a distance.

I find that I enjoy these as an anonymous mass planting, though they had annoyed me greatly when I thought of them as incorrectly named cultivars–impostors.

Colchicum speciosum 'Album' peeks out from hosta leaves.

In general the white forms of normally pink species seem to bloom later.

'Lilac Wonder' colchicum blooms in a mass of catmint leaves.

‘Lilac Wonder’ is a reliable bloomer. Since it tends to flop, I plant it where the catmint foliage can give it some support.

Colchicum autumnale 'Alboplenum' looks like a carpet of stars.

Those are the colchicums that are more or less at their peak. Many other varieties have one or two blossoms lingering.

My one and only chrysanthemum, an unnamed passalong.

The chrysanthemum’s shaggy appearance fits right in with the last of the flowering tobacco and a few stray catmint blooms.

Mysterious Blue Flower Hanging Out with the Vegetables

Mysterious blue flower showed up in the vegetable garden. (Click to enlarge)

Can anyone tell me what this blue flower is? My two best guesses are bottle gentian and blue lobelia. Not sure how it wound up in the vegetable garden.

The Johnny-jump-ups are thriving in the cooler weather. The tall border phlox, especially the white one that came with the house, has just enough bloom that I hesitate to cut it down. The frost ruined the opened blooms of black-eyed Susans, dianthus, and flowering tobacco, but new blossoms have opened since then. I appreciate the stubborn hangers-on, the ones who are willing to give it one last shot. But I know the party’s over. Time to clean up.

Colchicum Design Ideas from Montrose Gardens

Kathy Purdy — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 16:35:47 +0000

Many gardeners complain that it is difficult to place colchicums in the garden because of their unusual growing cycle, in which their leaves grow in the spring, die down in the summer, and then the flowers emerge in the fall. The colchicum bed at Montrose Gardens in Hillsborough, North Carolina, pictured above, contained many colchicum design ideas that could be implemented in any garden.

Approaching the bed from this direction, we are actually leaving the house and gardens proper and moving toward the entrance gate.

There are several different kinds of colchicums in this bed as well as other plants. (Red Dirt Ramblings has a nice close-up shot.) At the far end of the bed are several clumps of a plant that has bluish flowers with a mauve cast which complements the varying lilac-pink shades of the colchicums very well. (I think it is hardy ageratum, Eupatorium coelestinum, but since that is “hardy” to Zone 6 I am going more by the pictures I have seen of this plant. You Southerners help me out here.) These plants anchor both ends of the bed and also echo the flower color of a different plant in a bed further along, thus tying the two beds together with color.

Colchicums star in this bed, but the other plants were carefully chosen to work with them. (Click on the photo to enlarge)

A bright magenta petunia and dark purple foliage plants echo the color of the colchicums. They share the same hue but their values are quite different. The grey-green of some of the foliage plants is the opposite of the colchicum’s bluish pinks and flatters them by contrast. Similar interactions are going in this photo from my own garden:

Different hues of pink and green play off each other.

There are white colchicums in this Montrose Gardens bed, too, but they get a different design treatment:

The black grass makes the white flowers stand out.

I am pretty sure this is black mondo grass, Ophiopogon planiscapus ‘Nigrescens’, but again, this is another plant that is not hardy in my area. I get the same dramatic contrast by growing white colchicums with a dark leaved ajuga:

Colchicum autumnale var. alboplenum stands out in a bed of dark ajuga

Without the dark leaves for contrast, the white flowers are not as visible, especially when there is a lot going on, as in the Montrose bed. But you know, pairing plants based on flower color is relatively easy. What stumps a lot of gardeners is how to handle colchicums in the spring, when their foliage emerges and then goes dormant.

The hellebores are background plants now, but were in their glory when the colchicums were leafing out.

In spring when the colchicum leaves emerge, the hellebores, seen in the back in the photo above, are blooming their hearts out. I can see in my minds’ eye that the upward thrusting colchicum leaves would make a pleasing structural counterpoint to umbrella-like hellebore foliage. But what really stumps gardeners, especially the fastidious, deadhead-and-keep-everything-edged sorts, is what to do when those oversized leaves are going dormant:

Colchicums are hard to love when they're going dormant.

Even I, the self-appointed colchicum evangelist, must concede that they are not at their best at this stage. What you may not have noticed in the Montrose photos above, but which I could see at the time, was the presence of hardy geranium foliage. Hardy geraniums are making lovely mounds of greenery, spangled with blooms, just when the colchicums are at their worst. Depending on which hardy geraniums you plant, you can easily camouflage the waning colchicum leaves with some lusty geraniums. And the geraniums are usually due for a cutback shortly before the colchicums bloom. It’s a win-win situation that I first read about in an essay by Brian Bixley in Essays on Gardening in a Cold Climate. (Catchy title, yes?)

I was very happy to find these colchicums blooming at Montrose Gardens. Since so many of these southern plants were unfamiliar, stumbling across these flowering bulbs was sort of like meeting up with your next door neighbor when traveling abroad. I was pleased to see that the same siting and planting techniques that I have used to incorporate colchicums in my garden were also used at Montrose Gardens, though with a southern plant palette.

Colchicums: isn’t it time you planted some?