Every day I take a walk around my garden, and check my ‘Endless Summer’ hydrangea for buds.

I don't see any flowers, do you?

Wait! Do I see a flash of blue?

There's a flower in there!

Peek-a-boo!

Almost exactly a year ago, my ‘Endless Summer’ hydrangea was blooming. This year, as you can see above, it doesn’t even have buds.

What Went Wrong?

Okay, I forgot to feed it. Does it completely fail to make buds without fertilizer? I think not. It may not flower as profusely, and the blooms may not be as big, but no flowers at all?

The weather was not to its liking. There was that late May freeze. Yes, I covered it, but still. Other covered plants showed visible damage. Perhaps the hydrangea suffered damage that I couldn’t see, that killed the flower buds. Certainly the smaller hydrangea nearby got hit. It never recovered, either.

And the weather is still not to its liking. I think Hydrangea macrophylla likes more heat to its summer. We’ve scarcely hit 80F the whole summer. Not that I, personally, am complaining.

What’s Eating Them?

Are these critters causing those spots?

Some of the damage is from snails, I bet.

You can click on any of the captioned images for a closer look. Maybe you can tell me what's afflicting this plant.

I finally uncovered my ‘Endless Summer’ and ‘Forever&Ever’ hydrangeas. I had discovered that dumping a bunch of dry leaves over them in the fall was sufficient to protect them from the erratic spring freezes that we have. The old branches help hold the mulch in place, and I cut them down in the spring when I remove the mulch. You can see a few of the old branches in the photo above.

We have had frost in the first week of June in other years, and even though none was predicted for this week, well, we’ve had frost before when none was predicted. I’d rather uncover them a week later rather than have all their new growth blackened after weeks of waiting. That’s a certain way to lose a season’s bloom.

You can see the small, pale leaves that have been hiding under the mulch until now.

This ‘Endless Summer’ now has some size to it. I had two very small trial shrubs, and when we had our hard freeze on May 19th, one got killed and one got severely damaged, despite having leaves mounded over them and plant containers covering them. If you tend to get lots of “surprises” during spring, you almost can’t protect them too much.

I have some organic fertilizer for acid-loving shrubs that I will scratch into the soil as soon as the rain stops.

How are your hydrangeas faring?

In Part 1 I mentioned the two hard frosts and a freeze we had recently, all of them rather later in the season than is typical. I illustrated how different species in the same genus reacted to the freeze differently, and also gave examples of plants that were damaged even though they were protected.

Appearances Can Be Deceiving

Sometimes frost damage doesn’t show up right away.

This Forever&Ever hydrangea was covered with leaves and the sprouts poking through the leaves were covered with a container. The morning after the big freeze, the damage is barely discernible as a slight shine and darker color.

Several days later, the damage is much more apparent

This columbine was completely unprotected for the hard freeze and looks pretty pitiful

Just hours later, it looks like it never was frozen. No damage whatsoever.

Too Big to Protect

Trees and shrubs often take the worst hits from unexpectedly cold weather because they can’t be covered. We are always dreading frost when the apple trees are blooming, and this Michigan State University Extension site explains how to assess frost damage to apple buds, flowers, fruit and trees. The photo below illustrates how woody plants can vary in their resistance to cold damage.

The maple leaves were undamaged, but the choke cherry leaves were all destroyed.

The freeze didn't ruin the lilacs, to our surprise.

The florets that were past their prime turned brown prematurely, but most flower trusses went on to bloom normally and perfume the air wonderfully.

Some Plants Can Take It

Border phlox and Siberian iris foliage took the hard freeze in stride.

What You Should Learn From This

When the forecast reads,

Temperatures Monday morning will fall into the upper 20s to lower 30s. Sheltered rural valleys could be even colder…Those with agricultural or gardening interests in the warned area are advised to protect tender vegetation.

don’t throw your hands up in despair. Even if you can’t completely protect your plants, you can help many of them either to recover for this season, or to build up strength for next season. You won’t know how much you can save until after it’s all over, so don’t assume it’s hopeless ahead of time.

Recently, Chris of Backyard Gardening Blog published a timeline in pictures, demonstrating the growth of his ‘Endless Summer’ hydrangeas. I found it very interesting to compare his photos with the few I took. You might want to have his post open in a separate tab of your browser so you can quickly flip back and forth to compare shrubs.

May 13, 2007. 'Endless Summer' is just getting started.

June 4, 2007, a bit more than 3 weeks from the previous photo.

June 25, 2008. Click to enlarge photo if necessary.

July 6, 2008

July 16, 2008

July 27, 2008: fully colored up.

September 8, 2008.

Microclimates are important

Chris is in Zone 5. Theoretically I am, too, though not too long ago I would have said I was in Zone 4. I still have a Zone 4 growing season, with later spring frosts and earlier fall frosts. And Chris has one other advantage. Did you notice it? That stone wall behind his hydrangeas is providing a warmer microclimate by storing heat and radiating it back when the temperatures drop.

I have to say I was much happier with my ‘Endless Summer’ hydrangea this year than I was last year. I’m sure it improved its performance that I took care to mulch it with leaves last fall, and I didn’t pull them away from the plant until I was sure all danger of frost had passed. But I can also see that Chris gets more bloom from his ‘Endless Summer’ hydrangeas with the same amount of work.

I hope you found this comparison as informative as I did. A few extra weeks at each end of the growing season and a more favorable microclimate can make a significant difference in the performance of a plant. It’s a good thing to keep in mind when a fellow gardener rants–or raves–about a plant.

This year, my Endless Summer hydrangea is blooming abundantly.

What I did differently

As I mentioned earlier this year, I covered the shrub with fallen leaves in late autumn. I made sure they filled the center of the plant and covered the surrounding soil to a depth of six inches. I did not remove these leaves until I was certain the last frost had passed. New growth had already begun under the leaves. (I also saw some vole tunnels, which I filled in. The shrub didn’t seem to have been harmed.)

When I removed the leaf mulch this spring, I also fertilized with Shrubs Alive! Fertilizer for Acid Loving Plants, to try to enhance the blue color of the flowers. I think they are bluer than when they last bloomed, though not as blue as in the marketing photos.

I also made sure the hydrangea had better weather this year. Seriously, the weather can have a major impact on the performance of these shrubs, and there’s not much you can do about it. This was a good year for hydrangeas, and I’m thankful for it.

Unfortunately, the ‘Forever & Ever Double Pink’ that I fell in love with seems to have expired. After its stunted growth last year and its very weak growth this spring, I’m wondering if it had a virus. On the other hand, the original Forever & Ever Hydrangea (a single pink) had never bloomed for me before, and it now has buds on it. You win some, you lose some.

They’re still high maintenance

The same caveats still apply. They need their mulch in winter, they need their water in summer. Not too hot, not too cold. Ju-u-ust right. Like Goldilocks.

Endless Summer Hydrangea: Dream Come True–or Nightmare?

Hydrangea ‘Forever & Ever Double Pink’ stole my heart in 2006. This photo was taken September 7 of that year

It’s just like Elizabeth said. We gardeners want to believe that our dream plant is out there, just waiting for us to find it. I know when I first saw photos of the ‘Endless Summer’ hydrangea, and read that it bloomed in zone 4, I thought I’d finally be able to grow the same kind of hydrangeas my grandmother did. As you’ll read below, the truth is somewhat more complicated. The same year I got the ‘Endless Summer’ hydrangea (2006), I also received some Forever & Ever hydrangeas to trial, including this one on the left. “Trial” means it came to me straight from the grower, already forced into precocious growth, a good month before my last frost, so its behavior in my garden that first year could hardly be considered typical. My garden notebook doesn’t state when this bloomed that first year, but it was still blooming the first week in September. I fell in love with it.

This photo of ‘Double Pink Forever’ hydrangea was taken September 14, 2007. It never got any taller, and never bloomed.

The following year, in 2007, it got hit by frost after the leaves had emerged. Maybe it got knocked back twice, I don’t remember. (I may forget to cover an iffy plant once in spring, but rarely twice. But there are those nights where the temperature drops much more than predicted.) But when all danger of frost was past, and it started growing, well, it didn’t. Take a look at the photo on the right. I have never seen a woody plant do this. It put out leaves, but the stems didn’t lengthen. Seven inches was as tall as it ever got. You can see the Johnny-jump-ups towering over it in the background. (Click on image for a larger one.)

2007 was a Bad Year for these Hydrangeas

Neither ‘Endless Summer’ nor any of the Forever & Evers bloomed for me in 2007. By all accounts it was a bad year for these reblooming hydrangeas, so let’s not hold that against them.

These are not the old-fashioned hydrangeas

But it’s time to wake up and smell the coffee. Cold climate gardeners, I’m talking to you. These are not the hydrangeas you see growing and blooming in the yards of older homes. These new, fancy hydrangeas, the ‘Endless Summer’ series, the Forever&Ever series, and the Let’s Dance series are all cultivars of Hydrangea macrophylla. These hydrangeas really don’t belong here. They are at the northern limit of their hardiness. For me, at least, they break dormancy well before the last frost in spring. Yet the slightest frost will kill back all the growth, so you need to cover it in spring and fall–every time a frost threatens. Better yet, keep them heavily mulched until all danger of frost is past.

Southern hydrangeas trying to make it in the north

So why are they being marketed to Northern gardeners? Your typical macrophylla blooms on old wood. That means it forms flower buds the year before they are to bloom, and they have to survive the winter. As you might guess, that usually doesn’t happen in our climate. Enter the next generation of macrophyllas: they also bloom on new wood. Even if they die all the way back to the ground (which they will), the new branches that emerge in spring will have flower buds.

But it ’s not that simple. According to Jim Kohut at Northscaping, our growing season is often not long enough for those buds on new wood to flower. We may get, at best, “one flush late in the season.” For a longer season of bloom, you need to mulch heavily to protect the buds further up the stems.

And that’s not all. Again, according to Jim, these plants need:

• Evenly moist soil, but no standing water
• Moderate air temps during the day
• A low nitrogen, high phosphorus (10-40-10) fertilizer–but stop before August
• Minimal pruning at first–don’t even deadhead for the first couple years

That’s just the high points of his excellent advice. Make sure you read the whole article. You will probably also find this forum thread of interest.

According to Tim Wood, plant hunter for Spring Meadow Nursery (Proven Winners),

If your Endless Summer dies back to the ground in the winter, forcing growth will deliver more flowers and sooner. Endless Summer and other rebloomers have to put on a certain amount of new growth before they will make new buds and flower. So it pays to give these plants extra fertilizer and water to push the growth. Miracle Grow once a week after any danger of frost does the job.

(Note: Miracle Gro is 15-30-15–proportionately more nitrogen and less phosporus than what Kohut recommends.)

Are these prima donna hydrangeas for you?

The bottom line is, you can grow these babies to at least USDA Zone 4–but you have to really want to. They are not low-maintenance shrubs in our climate; they need pampering. If, like me, they remind you of Grandma’s garden, or if you think they’re drop dead gorgeous, you’ll put in the work and be grateful that you can now grow what used to be a shrub for warmer climates.

If you’re hankering for something hardier, try:

• Hydrangea paniculata ‘Grandiflora’ (aka “Pee Gee”)
• Hydrangea arborescens ‘Annabelle’
• Hydrangea paniculata ‘Limelight’
• Hydrangea paniculata ‘Pinky Winky’

These are just some of the more well known cultivars. This Northscaping article mentions even more, plus has additional planting advice for cold climate gardeners.

This is an experiment for all of us. Please let me know in the comments which hydrangeas are working for you.

I wanted one

The Original ‘Endless Summer’ hydrangea. Photo © Endless Summer®

I first learned about ‘Endless Summer’ hydrangea four springs ago and decided instantaneously that I wanted one for my garden, and not just because of those gorgeous blue flowers. My grandma had always had these kind of hydrangeas (H. macrophylla) growing in her garden, and had explained to me that the flower color changed depending on the type of soil it was growing in. I could never grow my grandma’s kind of hydrangea because until ‘Endless Summer’ came along, these shrubs only bloomed on last year’s woody growth, which in my climate would get killed to the ground.

I got one

Last year, I finally got one. My first clue that this shrub might not be without faults was Don’s comment that “they are very sensitive to leaf damage from freezing.” And freeze they did, both last year and this year. In my book, it’s a poor kind of hardiness that makes it through the winter, only to be cut down in spring. Sure, I could use floating row covers on them, as has been suggested, but I wonder if a floating row cover would protect from really hard freezes?

Carol’s hydrangea on June 24 in Indiana

Kathy’s hydrangea on June 29 in New York

I was talking to Carol of May Dreams Gardens (all right, emailing), remarking on the difference in growth between our two plants. Hers is blooming, mine doesn’t even have buds yet! But she was telling me, “I’ve been disappointed in ‘Endless Summer’ because the plants just never get that big. Maybe a foot tall or 18 inches.” Mine is already 18 inches tall, and it isn’t ready to bloom yet. But I don’t think the macrophylla hydrangeas ever get as big as the paniculata hydrangeas, which are hardier and a lot more common (as in the ubiquitous ‘PeeGee’) the further north you go. The American Horticultural Society A to Z Encyclopedia of Garden Plants says H. macrophylla can reach 6 ft. high and 8 ft. wide; it lists H. paniculata as up to 22 ft. high and 8ft. wide. But on the ‘Endless Summer’ website (yeah, a plant with its own website) it says the expected height for ‘Endless Summer’ is only 3 to 5 feet. If we’re going to criticize a plant, we have to criticize it against its claims and not against our experience of other plants.

My shrub also blooms in the same sitting-on-the-fence color as Carol’s: neither pink nor blue, but a bit of both. Since blueberries, which require a very acid soil, grow wild in our field, I had assumed my hydrangea would bloom a glorious blue without any help from me, but apparently the soil near the house is less acid than up the hill.

Not living up to its claims

On the whole, I find this shrub is not living up to its claims. It is not hardy in the way I think of hardy, and it is not perpetually blooming because it takes so long to get going after dying back from late spring frosts. I bet I don’t see a fully colored blossom until August, just like last year.

How about you?

But what about you? For those of you who have planted this shrub, how is it doing for you? Are there others you like better?

He grew the original ‘Endless Summer’

Update: Here’s an article I found about the gardener who grew the hydrangea that became known as ‘Endless Summer’: Tangled Up in Blue. (I had to register on this site to gain access to the article. I’m hoping the link I’ve provided will let you skip that step.)

After my shrubs got planted they enjoyed a weekend of glorious weather. But I happened to notice Sunday morning that it was supposed to get in the low 30s that night. Low 30s, I knew, meant definitely below freezing around here. I made a mental note to bring in my potted plants and cover the hydrangea.

But I forgot.

Monday morning (April 17th) I awoke to 25.7 F (-3.5 C) on my max-min thermometer.

Here you see the two plants I meant to bring in. The first is a potted rosemary that I managed to keep alive all winter long. I haven’t had much better luck than Michele in bringing rosemary through the winter–until this year. This year was different, because I finally followed Judy’s advice from way back here. (Actually, we had several posts about rosemary back then, so you might want to run a search on “rosemary” to make sure you see them all.) My bedroom is the best combination of cool and bright to be found in this house, but there wasn’t room at the south-facing window until I got rid of one jade plant and put the other one on the floor. While it didn’t bloom, the rosemary did pretty well there, though the new growth was obviously leggier than what had grown outdoors last summer. And then I went and fried it with one night’s forgetfulness. Sigh.Fried. Scorched. Burnt. Cooked. Ever notice how many words used to describe plants damaged by cold are actually words we associate with heat? Take a good look at that rosemary above. (Click on it to enlarge.) This photo was taken twelve days after the damage was done, and you can see the bright green new growth at the tips of branches that have damaged leaves ranging in color from olive green to brown. It looks scorched, doesn’t it? But, fortunately, not killed. I debated whether I should cut it all the way back to the roots, or give it a trim. I could see new growth breaking along the branches as well as at the tips, so I opted to cut away all the leggy growth and take a wait-and-see approach with the rest.

It surprised me a bit to see the rosemary take such a hit, because Judy Miller wasn’t the only one to tell me rosemary could tolerate temps lower than what mine got that cold night. But it surprised me even more that the variegated Solomon’s seal (Polygonatum odoratum thunbergii ‘Variegatum’) that I had bought on impulse came through unscathed. Due to having been grown in a greenhouse, it was obviously much further along than if it had started the season in the ground in my garden. I had been hardening them both off for a couple of weeks, and gotten to the point where I was leaving them out all night when there was no danger of frost. Still, the Solomon’s seal seemed like the more tender plant. I took courage from its endurance of cold and have since planted it in its permanent location.

The final casualty of Jack Frost’s visit (which was typical for April in this area) was my precious hydrangea.All those crispy brown things along the stems used to be healthy green baby foliage. It’s grown that one leaf in the past 12 days. I’m hoping that once it settles in it won’t be so precocious in breaking bud, but Don tells me that it has a tendency to get in this sort of trouble. I hope it proves worthy of the extra coddling it will apparently need.

Since that fateful night, it has gotten below freezing 4 more times. The coldest it got was 22.9F (-5C). I’ve dutifully brought in the rosemary and covered the Solomon’s seal and hydrangea all of those nights, and every other night temps below 40 were predicted. Our last frost is usually sometime between the last week of May and the first week of June, so I’ve got another month of babying ahead of me. Even if I faithfully remember to do my duty, there’s always the possibility of being thrown a curve ball, such as when the predicted cloud cover fails to materialize and the earth radiates its precious heat far away from the plants. I’ve braced myself for the worst, but still hope for the best. It beats Texas heat any day.

When we last left our gardener, she had just received her Fedco shrub order, shortly after removing one and a half pounds of dock root from the spot where she wanted to plant her Hydrangea ‘Endless Summer.’

Have you ever had a gardening project turn into a Project? Heh. If you’ve been gardening any length of time at all, I know you have. And if you haven’t gardened much, well, your turn is coming.

The first surprise was when I opened up the box. The hydrangea was already partially leafed out. But, I fretted, bareroot shrubs aren’t supposed to leaf out until after they’ve been planted. (Obviously my plants don’t read the plant books, just like my babies never seemed to read the baby care books.) The Fedco catalog said nothing about what to do in this circumstance, but there were really only two choices: pot it up and keep it protected until all danger of frost was past, or plant it in the ground and hope for the best. I decided I might as well plant it, since the chances of my remembering to bring it in every cold night for the next 50 or so days was not very good.

The Fedco invoice included in the box admonished, “Before you plant, please consult the planting instructions in your catalog. Read them before you grab your shovel.” These instructions include: plant within 48 hours or heel them in. Hmm. That means I should have them in the ground no later than Thursday evening. Could be tight. Heel them in? Where am I going to find the space to dig a trench and bury the roots? The vegetable garden is the only place I can think of that would be available without serious work, and, um, they’re getting ready to plant vegetables there. But why wouldn’t I just dig the permanent planting hole and plant them? Heeling in is a horticultural practice I’ve never really seen the point of. Further instructions from the Fedco catalog:

For best results plant on cool cloudy days in the early morning or late afternoon. Soak deciduous trees and shrubs for up to 24 hours before planting. Keep the roots from drying out. Even a few minutes in the sun and breeze can kill a tree or shrub.

These are the kind of directions that gave me fits as a new gardener. It sounds like you’ve got 48 hours to come up with a cool cloudy day or else you’ve got to dig a trench and plant them in the trench until a cool cloudy day comes along. Then you’ve got to pray that the cool cloudy day doesn’t turn out to be the day you have to take three kids to the dentist. I’ve learned that these directions are just telling you the ideal circumstances. The further away you get from the ideal circumstances, the greater risk you have of things not going well, but you do have some wiggle room. And as you will read, I certainly did some wiggling.

The following day I began shoveling compost onto the hydrangea bed. But since Wednesday is Library Day (weekly errand run) that’s all that got done:Thursday morning I realized it would have been smart to start soaking the shrub roots last night, but I figured a couple of hours’ soaking was better than nothing. I begin my day by trying to track down the bottle of seaweed extract we had around someplace, because I think I remember reading that soaking the roots in a solution of seaweed concentrate helped ease transplant shock. The closest thing I found was a gallon milk jug of already diluted seaweed stuff, and it was only about a third full. I had no idea what strength solution I should be soaking the roots in, or even if I should be soaking them in it, and that information was on the nowhere-to-be-found bottle. Oh, well, some is better than none. I think.

So I put the hydrangea into a five gallon bucket and poured the contents of the jug in. Then I filled up my two gallon watering can at the kitchen sink and poured that in. (Why didn’t I take the bucket outside and fill it from the tap? Because we still get frost most nights and haven’t opened the valve to the outside faucet yet. All water must be obtained from the house or the rain barrel until mid-May.) Then I realized I needed to plant, and therefore soak, all the shrubs today, not just the hydrangea (duh), and went outside to look around for a suitable container. I brought one of those utility tubs into the house, put the hydrangea in, and then trotted down to the basement, carefully extricated the winterberries from their politically correct, damp, shredded newspaper, brought them upstairs and put them in the tub. Then I poured the especially dilute seaweed solution over everything. The roots weren’t covered yet and they should not be allowed to dry out, so I filled up ye olde watering can again and poured it in. The roots still weren’t covered, but it occurred to me that it was probably getting pretty heavy and perhaps I should finish filling it up after moving it to its final resting spot. Sure enough, I could just barely lift it. If I didn’t have several Big Boys in residence I suppose I would have had to dipper out water until it was light enough for me to move, but since Lachlan was standing right there, I sheepishly asked him to move the utility tub to the shady side of the house for me. Then I added more water, this time from the rain barrel. It was at this point that it started to feel like a Project, and nothing had been planted yet!

Next I asked Evan to turn the compost into the leaf-soil mixture and dig the hole for the hydrangea. Well, leaf-soil mixture is probably a misnomer. Really it was moist clay soil on the bottom, not-very-rotted leaves on top of that, and pretty-well-rotted compost on top of that. I have read that hydrangeas like a leaf-moldy soil full of organic matter, and I was doing my best to oblige. Except, nothing was mixing very well. The native clay soil was pretty moist. Well, if you must know, it was too moist. You know that maxim that you shouldn’t work the soil until a squeezed clump of it fails to make a ball? This soil would make a ball that you would have to throw onto a concrete surface to get it to bust apart. But–I know April is the best time to plant bareroot plants in our area, and I know the soil won’t dry out sufficiently until May, and I know I don’t want to heel them in that long.

So I compromised. “Dig a large hole, at least twice as wide and about as deep as the root system.” I eyeballed the hydrangea roots and asked Evan to dig a hole about 2 1/2 feet wide and as deep as the shovel. The amendments weren’t exactly thoroughly mixed in, but I hoped the earthworms would finish the job. After Evan dug the hole, I mounded some soil in the bottom of it and laid the roots over the mound. I scooped up mounds of soil and dropped them over the roots. If the soil had been drier I would have pressed it down against the roots. But I was afraid to compact the overly moist soil too much. I just poured water from the watering can as I covered the roots with soil, and I’ve been keeping my eye on it to check for settling.

I forgot to take a picture right after I was done. Must be I had the five winterberry shrubs yet to be planted on my mind.

I wanted to plant them as a hedge in front of the chicken fence, to screen both the yard and the house from the street.As I stood across the street to take this picture, our neighbor’s house is behind me to the left, and our house is in front of me but to the right. The two houses are situated diagonally from each other, so even though the hedge isn’t in front of the house, it will still screen the house from the neighbors’ view. At the far left, where the pvc pipe is leaning crazily, is the mouth of a seasonal brook, which drains into the roadside ditch. The bright green foliage all over belongs to the common tawny daylily, Hemerocallis fulva, which not for nothing is also called ditch lily. This whole area ranges from excessively moist to boot-sucking swampy, which, as you might imagine, rather limits what can survive here. It took me many months of pre-Internet research to learn that winterberry (Ilex verticillata) was 1) a native shrub that 2) provided berries for the birds as well as 3) winter interest and 4) liked wet soil and was even 5) hardy to Zone 3. A match made in heaven, I’d say. It took me this many years to get around to planting them because I strongly suspected it would be–you guessed it–a Project.

My teenaged son Collin was my next victim. I told him, as I told Evan, that I wanted him to dig four holes where I had placed stakes, about 30 inches wide and the depth of a shovel. Boy, did he act victimized! He glowered at me. He snarled, “When I agreed to do this digging for you, I thought it would take a couple of hours. I had no idea you wanted me to dig holes big enough to bury a man in!” and he stomped off to the first hole, muttering. I was dumbfounded. I had no idea what he was mad about, and I just wrote it off as adolescent angst. I mean, he wasn’t digging happily, but he was digging.

By the time I was done puttering around with the hydrangea, I saw he was done with the first hole and working on the second, so I brought the first winterberry over. “Don’t bother planting anything there yet, that hole isn’t nearly done,” he grumbled at me. “What do you mean?” I replied, “It looks like it’s deeper than I asked you to dig it.” Now it was his turn to look at me dumbfounded. Suddenly doubting my own estimation, I brought the shovel over and held it against the side of the hole. Sure enough, the hole went down a good six inches past the shovel head. “See? The hole is deeper than the head of the shovel.” “Mom, you said to dig it to the depth of the shovel! That includes the handle!” Unlike Evan, Collin isn’t much of a plant guy, and I’m not one for precision in my spoken language. Once we had a chuckle over that misunderstanding, Collin went back to digging much more cheerfully.

Slurp. Splat. Slurp. Splat. I was beginning to doubt my research. Did it say winterberries liked moist soil . . . slurp. splat! . . . or wet soil? No turning back now. The first hole he had dug was the one near the mouth of the brook. The water table was so high there that there were two perpetual inches of water in the bottom of the hole, and the clay was an ugly grey color that filled me with misgiving. I brought a wheelbarrow full of municipal compost to help me fill in the planting holes. The compost would take the place of all the rocks Collin unearthed while digging.

I shovelled some clay into the bottom of the hole: splash! I placed the shrub on top of the clay, spreading the roots out. I had Collin hold it upright while I shoveled more clay around the roots to anchor it. Once it was steady I let him go back to digging and alternately shoveled compost and clay. And before I knew it, the first winterberry was “planted.”Despite being further uphill than the first hole, this second hole had more water in it. I finally realized all the trampling had caused a rivulet to flow into the hole. You can see a hint of current on the surface of the water: Once I dammed up and redirected the rivulet, and cut a little channel on the downhill side of the hole to let the water out, the hole emptied and didn’t refill. Otherwise planting the second one went the same as planting the first one.

Collin was digging holes much faster than I was filling them. As a matter of fact, he was done. But I had forgotten about the male winterberry that also needed planting, the ‘Southern Gentleman.’ It doesn’t make the decorative berries, but it does pollinate the ones that do, so it needs to be nearby but not necessarily out in view. I wanted to plant this inside the chicken yard. Since Lachlan keeps this area mowed, I consulted with him as to the most convenient placement. I wanted to plant it behind the evergreen visible in the second photo from the top, but Lachlan pointed out to me that the evergreen would only keep growing and would soon crowd it out. So we decided to plant it where I had twice tried to grow a Viburnum trilobum with no success. Collin dug a hole there, which immediately filled with water to within two inches of ground level–with no visible source to the water!No wonder I could never get a viburnum to grow there.

I managed to plant one more shrub before having to quit for the day and start cooking supper. That meant my 48 hours were up and all the shrubs were not yet planted. The last two, one female ‘Winter Red’ and one male ‘Southern Gentleman,’ spent the night in the utility tub. Fortunately it was a mild night. It only got down to 38 F (3 C).

Friday I planted the last of the four ‘Winter Red’ winterberries. But Rundy pointed out to me that the evergreen, which had been planted the first year we moved in, was now under a utility line (which had been installed several years after we planted the tree) and needed to be cut down sooner or later, so why not sooner? Then I could plant the ‘Southern Gentleman’ over by the edge of the property where it would be less conspicuous and more convenient to the one mowing this area. We both agreed that we should wait until my DH got home and run it by him before Rundy actually took it down. That meant my poor ‘Southern Gentleman wouldn’t get planted until Saturday, well over 84 hours from when the package was delivered, and well over 24 hours soaking in that tub. I just had to hope it wouldn’t be too set back by the delay, because it would really be a in a better spot in the end.

As expected, Dad gave his okay for the tree removal, and Saturday morning Rundy cut it down and dragged it out of my way.Finally I was able to plant my ‘Southern Gentleman.’ After all that practice, it went fairly quickly.I’ll keep you posted on their progress. We’ll all eventually learn if the rules I wiggled adversely affected the shrubs’ growth. When it was all over with, I did go back and check the info I had on winterberries. Native Plants of the Northeast : A Guide for Gardening & Conservation by Donald Leopold states:

Soil: moist to wet, including prolonged standing water; best in organic soils that are acidic

So I think the excessive wetness will be all right, and I hope the compost I added to each hole will improve the organic end of things enough to be adequate. Only time will tell.