Weapons of Mass(achusetts winter) Destruction

I'm crawling, bare-knuckled and teeth-gritting, towards spring. To battle those terrors of frigid temperatures, dirty piles of snow, and black ice, I have these weapons.

Who can resist in the face of shamelessly over-the-top roses?  I love red.  And anything that comes wrapped in tulle and ribbon.

 

The butterfly petals of a white cyclamen always look clean and fresh, even on an overcast day. Yes, there will be sunshine and spring breezes, eventually.

 

This "Novella"amaryllis keeps me going until the rest of my bulbs are ready to come out of the refrigerator, get themselves planted, and start blooming.  Hey, it might just be that time!

A straggly forsythia Lynwood Gold, transplanted a year ago, has finally sprung shoots for flower forcing.  What a struggle up the backyard hill in knee-high snow just to snip some twigs!  This plant is not exactly burdened with branches, but hopefully a few won't be missed.

And within 30 seconds of cutting the ends of the forsythia twigs under warm water, this little twist of leaves had unfurled.  Even if they don't bloom, that sight was worth the inconvenience of snow down my boots and icy hands.  But, oh, I do hope that they will flower!

But to really arm myself against winter, I spent a few hours in the the 19th- and early 20th-century greenhouses at the Lyman Estate in Waltham.  There, the weather is always balmy, the bouganvillea is in bloom and, through the glass panes, the skies shine a sunny blue.

 

And there were gazillions of orchids to see and sniff. And what doesn't combat a New England winter better than these? 

Midwinter moonlight gardens

A girls-only trip to western Florida last weekend landed me at the Edison winter estate in Ft. Myers.  In addition to the glorious orchids nestled in the boughs of mango trees, heirloom roses embellishing the grounds, and banyan trees dripping with prop roots, this romantic little private garden was a heart-stealer.

Designed by Ellen Biddle Shipman in 1929 for Edison's wife, Mina, this moonlight garden was restored to its intimate, contemplative beauty in 2006.  The diminuative outdoor room, extending from the back of Edison's "Little Office," is enclosed on its other three sides by a deep green hedge topped by scarlet-flowering bougainvillea, "Barbara Karst."  An antique white climbing rose, “Prosperity,” sprawls up the Little Office's chimney.  Between the white Chinese paper lanterns ringing the garden perimeter are more white flowers: Pentas lanceolata, star-like Vietnamese gardenias, and Begonia odorata "Alba." What glorious scents there must have been at night!

In the evening, strings of electric lights would have been reflected, starlight-like, in the pool below.  This is one of those thoughtful gardens which succeeds as much because it aligns perfectly with the personalities of those for whom it was designed as for its own gentle charm.

Returning up north, I peaked out at my own moonlight garden last night.  Here it is, shivering in the frozen, snow-covered midwinter darkness. How much longer?

Xeriscaping, not

When I set as one of my garden goals for this winter to read up on xeriscaping, I had in mind the horticultural improvement of this modest dry patch in the side yard.

Little did I know that my job would be sending me a few months later to a place where the dry patches are really dry. Desert dry. And desert big.

This is not a place where xeriscaping or native plants or environmental stewardship has made much traction. The plants are almost exclusively imports: petunias, bougainvillea, mangroves . . . even these palm trees are indigenous to another continent. Irrigation systems are necessary to supply de-salinated water.

The solitary native plant that I encountered was this hardy soul, perhaps Lycium shawii, which was enjoyed as camel fodder.

I had hoped to bring back some photographs, plant lists, and landscaping ideas for drought-tolerant species. Perhaps even a few seed packets would find their way into my luggage.

But, no, nothing.  Though I did pick up a most appropriate memento in the Amsterdam airport on the way back.

Don't look for it in the xeriscaped area of my garden this summer.

Garden goalroll, 2011

For the past two years, I have run a garden goalroll: this is my place to scribble horticultural marginalia and to post reminders about what needs doing when.  Or to record what I still haven't done.  Bearded irises, I hear you.  I'm making plans for a glorious 2011!

Dead of winter

Read up on xeriscaping in anticipation of extending the bed in front of the day lilies.  The drought-killed lawn there is going to go!  Plants to consider:

• Coneflower "Green Jewel" (move from current location)
• Sedum "Autmn Joy" (move from behind compost bin)
• Fort Ticonderoga bearded irises (move from current location)
• Pink coneflower

Order dahlia tubers.  Ordered 3/1/2011

• Back of house: Arabian Nights, Rae Ann's Peach, Rose Toscano, Patty Cake
• Old side bed: Karras 150, Bonne Esperance
• New side bed: Park Princess

When the forsythia blooms

Continue to prune front foundation plantings into shape.

Prune clethra to remove deadwood and shape.

Edge garden beds.

After the forsythia blooms

Dig out a new curved bed in front of the day lilies, amend, and load up with drought-tolerant plants.

Lightly fertilize bearded irises with bonr meal, superphosphate or other low nitrogen (5-10-15) supplement. 

May or June

After flowering, shear Amsonia hubrichtii by 1/3 of its height to promote better form.

When it is 3 feet tall, cut the joe pye weed "Gateway" back to half its height to encourage dense growth. 

Pinch sedum "Autumn Joy" when it reaches 8 inches; stake with ring.

Organize the bearded irises, so that visually compatible cultivars are grouped together. Tag individual plants so that they can be moved later in the season.

Stake dahlias when the tubers are planted and again and again as they grow. Stop dahlias by pinching stem back to four pairs of leaves.

Pinch back shasta daisies to 6" in late May.

And stake, stake, stake!

Columbus Day

Dig in bone meal around peonies.

Lightly feed evergreen along front of house with Holly-Tone.

Veterans Day

While daytime temperatures are still above 40 degrees, spray an anti-transpirant, like Wilt-Pruf or Wilt Stop, on "Sky Needle" hollies to prevent winter kill.

Top-dress beds with composted cow manure.

Thanksgiving

Winter-sow larkspur seeds.

Inside edition

Although this past weekend's brisk temperatures and sunny skies were terrific for some end-of-season outdoor clean-up and top-dressing, a few hours had to be devoted to preparing indoor plants for winter bloom.

I should have cut off all this lush foliage and set the amaryllises for dormancy about six weeks ago. I pretty much follow the same drill every year.  My biggest challenge is always rot. The onslaught is unending.  I feel like an embattled Churchill in 1940: "We shall fight on the beaches. We shall fight on the landing grounds.  We shall fight in the fields . . . "

This "Temptation" bulb had produced lots of leaves, thrown off a plump off-set, and looked firm--but the papery layers of skin were soft and covered with brownish-red patches.  I stripped off what I could and cut out the rest.  Usually, I am not so ready with the knife but I figure there's nothing to lose.

To cheat out the long wait for these cooling bulbs, I also planted a new "Novella"amaryllis and set it to warm by a radiator in a south-facing window.

I also began the weekly cycle of paperwhite planting. "Ziva" are my favorite: their fragrance, overpowering to some, is perfection to a diminished sniffer of scents like myself. I have reported on an alcohol-inspired way to ensure short stems, but I'm starting the season with long stems supported by a tall vase.  Just add glass pebbles and water.

To ensure good root growth, I start the bulbs in a cool, dark place. For a few weeks, they are resting in the closet of coldest room of this cold house. (What, everyone doesn't set the thermostat to 60 degrees and wear a knitted cap indoors?)  Waiting, waiting, waiting . . .