… and again

In the early hours of this February snow six deer passed single file through the forest edge behind our home while my wife and I lunched on chicken soup and sandwiches, gazing out the kitchen window at the rapidly accumulating snowflakes. The last in this leisurely procession walked with a prominent limp, a result, I am quite certain, of not looking before you leap. All were quite thin, which I assume is not unusual for this time of the winter.

I felt a momentary guilt for spraying the deer repellent that has made the evergreens in the garden unpalatable, though I did see a day earlier that deer had found a lone liriope through the melting snow of three days past, and nibbled the foliage to the ground. I was tempted to expose the remainder of the grouping to save me from the task of having to cut them back in March.

With many more inches of snow today the groundcovers will not be exposed for several weeks in this shady garden, but I suppose the deer will find enough arborvitae and yew in other parts of the neighborhood to survive.

We have made a considerable effort to make this garden an attractive home to wildlife, but as the collection of hosta and other prized plants were decimated by deer my wife threatened drastic actions, including purchase of a gun. I took this no more seriously than her threats against the mice in the basement, the woodpecker that has pecked holes in our stucco chimney, or the squirrels who reside in our attic (all of which were threatened with violence), but I have noted the limits of her tolerance so that I might avoid my blood being shed should I prove to be too great an annoyance.

The snow, of course, has become tiresome as spring was nearly in sight. It’s likely that the hellebores blooming will be delayed under this snowy blanket, and the early daffodils, crocus, and iris won’t poke their heads above ground for several weeks. Still, in a short while there will be juicy tulips for the deer to feast on, and all will be well, though repairs from this snow’s damage might last well into March.

As quickly as I regain energy enough to write again, we will discuss the damage the winter snows have done to the garden, and what we can do about it.

Here we go again

The snow is piling up …. again! And so, what else to do but relax with a good book, perhaps even a gardening book, or work on the spring seed order, or compile the list of perennials that can’t possibly be lived without.

Today I have completed reading The Explorer’s Garden: Shrubs and Vines from the Four Corners of the World by Daniel J. Hinkley, with tales of hydrangeas, viburnums, edgeworthias (below), and mahonias found in foreign lands. This is adequate inspiration to survive the winter a bit longer.

Though the garden is covered by a white, snowy blanket, with renewed enthusiasm I have concluded that my project for this spring will be to rejuvenate the lower half of the dry, shady garden between the house and the sliver of maple and poplar forest that borders the property, an area perhaps fifty or sixty feet square. When the garden was younger, and shade from the maples was less intrusive, a Forest Pansy redbud was planted equidistant from the house to the forest edge, but as shade has crept closer, the redbud has declined.

Oakleaf hydrangeas (Hydrangea quercifolia, above) planted beneath the arching trunk of the redbud have grown thin, and bloom weakly, possibly due to the thin, dry soil as much as the lack of sunlight. At other points in the garden, given more moist conditions and a few hours of sun, this hydrangea grows thick and blooms beautifully, and the autumn color is spectacular and prolonged.

With less than stellar performances from the redbud and hydrangeas I often choose to simply ignore the area, detour around, try to forget this troublesome spot. Further up the slope the stone path that runs parallel to the side of the house is hopelessly obstructed by large leaf hostas and arching branches of tall nandinas. To stray from the path inevitably leads through a stretch of mud, and care must be taken to avoid carrying that into the house lest the wife put a stop to all this nonsense and demand more paths, and mulch, all of which seems like so much labor. And so you can see that the reasonable solution is to avoid the area altogether.

But, at least for today, or until the spending of dollars and labor must begin, the plan will be to concentrate efforts to add a few evergreens that will tolerate the shade, and perhaps a flowering understory tree or two that will lend a bit more substance. Certainly the native dogwood (Cornus florida, in bloom in April above) will do well here, and the upright columnar plum yew (Cephalotaxus) will offer a winter presence currently lacking (and the long dark green needles lend an interesting textural element not found in other shade plants).

The gold splashed forms of aucuba (Aucuba Gold Dust, above) planted nearby have nearly recovered from being nibbled to near death by deer a winter ago, and with my newfound commitment to spraying the deer repellent, both gold and green leafed aucubas will work wonderfully, so there is another evergreen, and both beali and Winter Sun mahonias (below) have grown splendidly, so there’s another.

Without the threat of deer I can resume collecting  hostas, and with the dark evergreen plum yew and aucuba the huge gold leaves of Sum and Substance will work particularly well. Helleborus (below) have done quite well in this dry shady location, and this is an excellent opportunity to expand my collection of these fine late winter bloomers. Now we’re getting somewhere!

My wish list of perennials to plant this spring has included mostly those preferring sun, but I will reconsider and attend more to those for shady gardens. With these final touches I’m confident that I can bring this together within a reasonable budget, but if not, the result will be so marvelous that stretching the budget a bit won’t be painful at all.

And the winner is …..

The Perennial Plant Association has selected False Indigo, Baptisia australis as Perennial of the Year for 2010. This not a hot, newest introduction, but an old time, sturdy native.

In my garden baptisia was set up for failure. The subsoil excavated to build my large swimming pond was mounded on the lower side of the sloping property, and though the soil’s not horrible, the mound is quite steep and dries out in an instant. I had no illusion that this area would ever receive a drop of water except from Mother Nature, and would be seen by casual visitors only from a distance across the pond, so plants on the backside of this slope needed a bit of height. How’s that for a challenge?

Baptisia has proven a perfect choice, not only tolerating the poor, dry soil, but thriving. I don’t believe that native plants are necessarily more adapted to drought than non-natives, but this native is tough as nails, has nice blue-green foliage, and tall spikes of bright blue flowers. Wonderful!

The baptisias in my garden are seedling grown, not clones from cuttings or division, so each of the six has a slightly different habit, though they bloom concurrently in early May in northern Virginia . One grows taller, fuller, and more stout than the others, with more glaucous foliage that shows no sign of stress through the hottest, driest stretch of summer.

On several occasions my wife has cut the black seed pods that follow blooming for an interior display, and I fear each time I brush the brittle shells that the seeds will burst forth to cause a considerable mess. Though they rattle around the dried pod remains intact.

There are named selections, and a yellow bloomer, and I have no doubt they are fine plants, but Baptisia australis is a delightful choice for the hottest, driest, sunniest spot in the garden. A fine choice for recognition as Perennial of the Year.

Wild flowers

Beginning in late February with helleborus and snowdrops, then crocus and daffodil, dogwoods, redbud, and magnolia, through December with late autumn blooming camellias and mahonias, there are more flowers in this garden than I could possibly count. There are single daisies and double peonies, dainty blooms and monstrous hydrangeas, and flowers with amazing coloration and configurations.

Some flowers are ordinary, colorful en masse, but not distinctive, while others are a masterpiece of composition, superior to anything man can create. Better to be seen close up, where unique shapes and patterns can be appreciated fully.

For a large planting bed, look to tulips and daylilies, shrub roses and azaleas. Here, color matter most, lots of it, and viewing is intended from a distance. In my overplanted jungle of a garden, the remaining open space is precious, a nook here and a cranny there, and the quality of the bloom is more important than the quantity. These are the plants on my spring shopping list.  

Iris, especially Japanese iris (Iris ensata variegata, above) that thrive in the shallows of the garden ponds and in damp ground. There are more versions of this plant than I could possibly collect, and each is a delight, with bright colors and distinctive markings.

Siberian and Louisiana iris, and, well, just about any variety will be a splendid addition to the garden. I have found these to be a low maintenance, pest free, perennial solution in difficult wet areas. A handful of varieties will assure a month or more of bloom, and I’m certain to add a few (maybe more) this spring.

Peruvian lilies (Alstromeria,above) are said to be somewhat aggressive, but in this garden where are they to go? At every turn there are trees or shrubs to shade its path, limiting the spread of even the worst offenders, so I’ve experienced no problems at all. Peruvian lilies bloom for months, and there are few blooms that can compare to their beauty. I have hardy types in the garden, and a couple tender ones wintering in the basement.

There are annual and hardy perennial forms of Passion flower vine (Passiflora, above), and while the annual varieties of many plants are often more colorful, the winter hardy passion flower common to the Washington D.C. area that I’ve planted is a marvel, second to none in beauty. Similar to many vines, it’s a fast grower, so it needs a bit of attention to keep it in bounds, but it’s well worth the effort.   

I began a few years back with one Toad lily (Tricyrtis, above) and was enamored with the small, oddly shaped late summer blossoms. This, of course, led to planting another, and another, and this year I’ll need to add a few of the yellow flowering types. To the thinking of some this is reason enough not to get started at all, but why suffer a garden without a beauty so grand?

The flowers of Sweetshrub (Calycanthus floridus,above) are not so colorful, nor so odd as to standout in the garden, but the reddish-brown blooms are unusual and sweetly fragrant. This woody shrub grows with an open habit in my shady garden, but will be more compact with more sunlight. This spring I am determined to locate the yellow flowering variety I have seen at the University of Georgia botanical garden.

When I find it, and the other treasures planned for spring purchase, the garden will still be far from complete. There are too few years in this lifetime, and too many flowers of incomparable beauty.

Favored conifers

I thought there were more evergreens in the garden, but looking about on a cold winter afternoon I’m surprised by the openness, the lack of enclosure, even in a mature garden with dozens (perhaps too many dozens) of large trees and hundreds (yes hundreds!) of shrubs. This place is a jungle late April through early November. Then, you can barely see where you’re walking, much less across the garden, but now I can see neighbors’ houses to the south and west property lines. I try not to look in those directions.

Japanese Umbrella Pine (Sciadopitys verticillata)

The long boundry to the north is the sunniest border in the garden, and here large evergreens shelter the winds and shield the view of the closest neighbors. In this mixed garden that runs roughly parallel to the property line (but with a nagging gap that requires mowing) there are cherries and dogwoods, a magnificent weeping beech, and katsura, but also large evergreen Colorado spruce (an assortment of grafted blues), two varieties each of cryptomeria and southern magnolia, cypress, and a collection of tall hollies covered in red berries that the birds will feast on as the winter progresses.

Between the tall borders (a sliver of mature maple and poplar forest runs along the south and west border) there are numerous evergreens, some rather large, and others, dwarf types (though they may have grown larger than you or I would expect). No matter the season I am fond of the evergreens, but they stand out so much more today, and since there are no blooms in the garden in early January, this seems appropriate for today’s chat.

Bacheri spruce, a grafted Colorado spruce

By number there are more spruce varieties, mostly Colorado spruces with varying shades of blue (above), each the color of a clear sunny sky until placed next to another, which makes one or the other dull by comparison. With space between, each is extraordinary. My particular favorites are the more dwarf, but not miniature, pendulous and globose spruces that are appropriate for planting in all but the smallest properties.

Acrocona spruce

Two Acrocona spruce (Picea abies ‘Acrocona’), though young, are quite marvelous in spring when new pink/red cones form at the branch tips. The irregular growth habit could be more precisely called ‘flopping about’ than the broad upright that it will become with age, for it has no form, neither weeping nor upright, but displays branches splayed in every direction. Though rarely sold in garden centers, this is a gem, albeit an oddly shaped one.

Horstmann's Silberlocke Korean fir

The seed cones of the Korean fir ‘Horstmann’s Silberlocke’ (above) are no less beautiful, though more concealed by the curved, silver-backed needles. This is a unique, slow growing conifer that is not well suited to the summer heat of Virginia, but struggles along with a bit of shade from the late day sun.

Descriptions of weeping and dwarf are cast upon a surprising number of conifer forms that seem to defy these categorizations. Particularly, the weeping forms of Norway spruce might hug the ground or ascend straight to the heavens, though with pendulous branching. Many weeping conifers are trained onto a three foot stake so that the growth habit might not be readily apparent, but in either form these are excellent evergreens demanding notice in the garden.

Gold Sun Lawson cypress in January

Many of the conifers with colors of yellow and gold (mostly Chamaecyparis, or cypress) fade with the lack of sun through the winter, but ‘Gold Shower’ Lawson cypress (above) remains a beauty with arching branches with blue green foliage that will turn bright yellow with new spring growth.

The conifer shades of blue and green are not dependent on the sun, and these are most treasured. And so, with each journey through the winter garden the list of have-to-gets grows longer.

After the blizzard

Most traces of almost two feet of snow three weeks back have disappeared from the neighborhood. Except in my garden!

A stand of mature trees bordering the southwest shades the property so that snow and ice linger for weeks after the rest of the world has thawed. The roots nestled below this thick white blanket don’t know what they’re missing. It’s a bit frosty and they’re well protected for now.

I’ve made the rounds of the garden a few times to check that evergreen branches have sprung back to shape, and most have, although the four foot tall and wide Rheingold arborvitae is now half the height and twice the width with branches splayed in every direction. I don’t know if it will have enough vigor to regain its original dimensions, and, if not, it had not quite recovered from deer nibbling away at its soft foliage a year ago and won’t be missed too badly.

The tall nandinas (before the snow, above) arched to the ground under snow’s weight, but they now stand nearly upright, leaning only slightly more over the stone paths than before. I expect they will straighten further by spring, and if they need further assistance the weight of the heavy clusters of berries is easily pruned. The prolonged cold will mean that most of the nandinas’ leaves will drop, as it is semi-evergreen in this area, though it’s survival is not in question.

For several days following the blizzard the fallen snow was undisturbed. No doubt I wasn’t venturing outdoors, but evidently our usual wildlife visitors were bedded down as well. The first tracks appeared the third day, right through the drifts that covered our front porch. No, not the UPS guy! One of our neighbors’ cats, and why it braved the snow to pay a visit I can’t figure.

With the deep snow, then heavy rain and severe cold, I didn’t get out into the garden to wander around for more than a week, but it looked pretty much the same, only colder and whiter. The flowers of ‘Winter Sun’ mahonias are fading (above), and early signs of the purple fruits are evident, but the winter blooming camellias are snuggled tightly in bud, so there’s not a bloom to be seen.

There are plenty of tracks in the now ankle deep snow, in fact, there are tracks everywhere. Deer tracks I can tell, and cats, and I assume the others to be racoons and fox, groundhog, and probably skunk and possum, though I don’t know which will be hibernating and which will be foraging at this time. I’ve turned the pump off on the large swimming pond, so it’s frozen over (with the exception of a small hole I keep open to vent gasses and protect the koi) and snow covered except for a path worn down the middle by a small-pawed critter.

The hollies are heavily berried (above), so there’s adequate feed for the birds, and I assume that the voles, moles, and chipmunks are scurrying beneath the snow creating mischief, as they are wont to do. Thus far the deer have avoided the evergreens sprayed with repellent, perhaps there will be blooms on the winter and spring blooming camellias this year.

And now, as the groundhog is probably settling in for another six weeks of winter, I’m doing the same. There will be a break in the cold soon, and the snow covering the garden might melt so that I can get a jump on the spring cleanup. And then, within a few weeks, the early iris and snowdrops, and helleborus will be blooming, and the blizzard will be only a memory.

Reflecting on a winter’s eve

Winter is the season for pondering, what could be, what can be? What happened, and where did I go wrong? (It’s a long story)

'Blush' Nandina a red leafed sport of Firepower

My one acre garden has been expanding for more than twenty years, and is overflowing with common dogwoods and viburnums, redbuds, nandinas and hollies, lots of this, a few of that, and a handful of oddities. I don’t suppose that the whole is a sensible design, but that matters little. I love plants, and crave those I don’t possess.

'Flirt' Nandina - a new introduction, a red leafed Harbor Dwarf

I would like to expand my dwarf conifer collection, and there are many Japanese maples that I lust after, but how could I possibly squeeze one more tree into the garden? And the winter garden, it must have more blooms, perhaps not this year, but next. I’ll get a start on it in March.

Needle palm

No doubt a bit more lawn will disappear this spring, despite the protests of my wife. Certainly space can be managed and the budget stretched for a hardy palm or two, and if they don’t prove to be sturdy enough then several of the new nandinas (see Flirt and Blush photos above) will work splendidly. A few Encore azaleas are needed to fill in my collection, and of course there will be room enough to cram in a truckload (or two) of whatever, and the whatever’s are easy to find.

'Crystal Falls' mondo grass

Seed catalogs are arriving by the day, and specialty catalogs filled with annual and perennial jewels. I’m too lazy to grow anything from seed, but I’ll make lists and snip the photos that catch my eye and wait until the garden center is stocked. Waiting is the hard part, dreaming is easy.

There is no warmer way to spend this chilly winter’s eve.

A very good year

I’m generally not one to reminisce about the goings-on of the year past. Gardeners are well served possessing a short memory, better to forget the minor disasters that occur with regularity, but we mustn’t forget the why’s and why-not’s, the how-to’s that prevent complete failure. My wife will confirm that my memory is selective, the unpleasant or inconvenient quickly dismissed.

There are plentiful memories from this year worthy of reflection.

Blooms from February to December

Perhaps there was a stray blossom from ‘Winter’s Interlude’ camellia in January, though the up-and-down temperatures were not conducive to mid-winter flowering and many buds were injured and fell. There were few other disappointments, from late-winter blooming bulbs and Helleborus, to the bright yellow December flowers of Winter Sun mahonia.

Helleborus bloom in late winter

Spring blooms were delayed a bit by cool temperatures in March, but once the flowering season began the cool, rainy weather encouraged blossoms to remain longer. Through summer, moderate conditions, with only a brief drought in August, kept the garden looking fresh.

The Autumn garden

While my addiction to planting is unbounded by the seasons, I exerted some effort to increase the number of late season bloomers, adding coneflowers, asters, sunflowers, and toad lilies, some new purchases, others divided. This first year was a success, and I look forward to larger plants with more abundant blooms in the coming autumn.

Toad lily in October

Though the least conspicuous of September flowers, the toad lilies (Tricyrtis) have captured my eye, and my collection continues to grow. Fortunately, they grow to a modest size that fit’s comfortably into any nook or cranny, in sun or shade.

A September garden wedding

Not in our garden, thank goodness! Though we hosted friends and family for our eldest son’s wedding, and invited a crowd back to the house after the rehearsal dinner, the event was held in the formal garden of a local Colonial era conference center.

Our sons, groom and best man, and groomsmen in the lower garden

The weather was ideal, as late September often is in northern Virginia. One week later began a progression of weekend monsoons that would have doomed an outdoor event for the following month. Luckily, not ours.

This wedding brings back only the happiest memories.

Merry berries

The garden is covered by a blanket of snow, but today the sun is shining and birds are darting to and fro. Our bird feeder has long been abandoned, a victim of relentless tree rats. No doubt there are feeders resistant to tree rats (okay, squirrels), but I’ve become satisfied to provide natural feed and shelter for our bird neighbors, and in this garden there’s plenty of both.

The large hollies are thickly branched and full of red berries (above and below) that will be plucked before winter is gone. There are ten or more varieties, some with prolific numbers of berries, and others less.

More preferred by the birds are the small, grape-like fruits of ‘Winter Sun’ mahonia (in bloom in December, below) that will follow as the bright yellow blooms fade in the next week or two. The fruits are consumed so quickly in January that I have never seen one ripened on the bush. I am determined to visit daily through the next weeks to confirm that they truly exist.

The spring blooming Mahonia beali (below) produces larger and more abundant fruits, but at a time when food is more readily available. Still, birds strip it bare in short order.

Each year the large nandinas (Nandina domestica, below) have plentiful clusters of berries, so many that the tall stems weep from their weight. They are greatly attractive, but birds do not find the berries irresistable, and often most are wasted, falling to the ground in spring.

Perhaps there is such an abundant supply of berries that birds can afford to be picky eaters.

The year in bloom – early spring

The drive has been shoveled, several times. Nearly two feet of snow have fallen today, and spring seems far away.

Days such as this bring back wonderful memories, of the storm of ‘66 when as a kid I delivered the morning newspaper, wading through chest high drifts. Later in the day jumping from the second story deck into snow drifted taller than my brothers and I.

While clearing the drive earlier today I was careful to avoid piling snow on the low hanging branches of the large Japanese maple that intrudes on the drive. This weeping maple stands eight feet or more, is at least as wide, and will continue to grow. At some point it will require pruning so that the drive remains passable, but that is not my concern today, and I prefer that the pruning not be done by an avalanche of snow.

There is no harm to the perennials and spring bulbs buried beneath these mounds of snow. They are safe, snugly insulated from the cold, so long as this is melted by March.

On this snowy Saturday in December the February blooms of hellebores (above) and witch hazel (below) seem so far away, but what better time, now that the darkness has hidden winter’s beauty, to recall delights that are no more than two months ahead.

I am anxious to see if the Edgeworthias (below) planted in early spring will survive the winter, for they are marginal for this zone. The blanket of snow will help so long as it covers the ground through the worst cold this winter offers. I doubt that will be the case.

The nodding flower buds are evident, and I’m certain that I’ll be visiting to check them many days in the months to come. I will happily report when they are beginning to bloom in early March.

A certainty is that the andromeda (Pieris japonica, above) will survive the winter, and bloom in late winter. Already the buds are attractive, but today, hidden beneath the snow.

Pieris is one of the evergreens in the garden that could be brittle under the weight of this amount of snow, but we’ll see what comes of it in the days ahead. Probably in the weeks ahead, since the forecast is for extended cold and it’s doubtful we’ll see much melting.