The cat jumps from windowsill to windowsill, meowing pitifully. The dog paces the room before dropping down in front of the fire with a sigh. And the chickens refuse to do more than poke their heads out into the frigid air and survey the knee-deep snow. We try to work through the list of tasks we've saved for the winter months, but how much basement cleaning, closet tidying and tax organizing can a gardener stand? In a month or so I can start the earliest batch of indoor seeds, but just now, spring seems awfully far away. One consolation is that the seed catalogs have been jamming the mailbox since just after Christmas, providing a wealth of obsession material. Most of them end up in the recycling bin because I avoid buying from the big seed conglomerates in favor of smaller outfits that offer more interesting options and focus on open-pollinated and heirloom varieties. Here, a few of my favorites. FEDCO. I discovered this co-op thanks to advice from my friend Donald, a professional gardener in Vermont, and they've been my first choice seed source for years now. Their 158-page catalog is a no frills newsprint affair, illustrated sporadically with old cuts and hippyish drawings, but the text is mighty good reading with lots of information from home gardeners and independent small farmers sprinkled throughout. Best of all they send more seeds per pack than most seed houses, and offer bulk quantities of many items. Extensive range of vegetables and a decent selection of flowers. Potatoes and Onion sets too, plus soil amendments, tools, books and some home livestock supplies. Fedco Seeds P. O. Box 520 Waterville, Maine 04903-0520 fedcoseeds.com BAKER CREEK HEIRLOOM SEEDS. This is without doubt the prettiest catalog I've received this year, and it's nice to see how this business has grown from its modest beginnings. It's still family owned and obsessed with seeking out treasured varieties lovingly saved and handed down from generation to generation. The photos are so beautiful and the names so enchanting, it's hard to resist ordering more than I need! Mostly vegetables, and somewhat more oriented to southern and midwestern climates, but still plenty of great options for our region. Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds 2278 Baker Creek Rd Mansfield, Missouri 65704 rareseeds.com SELECT SEEDS. The way this catalog is organized makes me crazy... nothing alphabetical and everything by common name... but this is still the best source for unusual, antique and heirloom flower varieties. Always something new to try here, and old favorites too, offered by the mother-daughter team of Marilyn and Allison Barlow. Many items can also be purchased as starter plants. A few vegetable varieties are listed, but flowers are their real strength. Select Seeds 180 Stickney Hill Rd Union, CT 06076-4617 selectseeds.com TURTLE TREE SEED. We're all trying to buy locally now, and you can't get much more local than this seed producer right here in Columbia County. I didn't get one of their catalogs this year, but their website is full of tempting photos and good descriptions. Several size packets of seed are offered for most items, which is a nice option. And as part of the Camphill community, this non-profit employs adults with special needs on the team that harvests and processes the seed shipments. Strong on vegetable and herb seeds, but I find the flower offerings a little too basic for my needs. Still, a wonderful local resource.
Turtle Tree Seed 10 White Birch Rd Copake, NY 12516 turtletreeseed.org This is just a personal sampling. There are lots of other worthy sources around, and I encourage you to seek them out and spend your seed budget with some of these smaller firms whose dedication, hard work and integrity deserve our patronage.
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No, it's not a lost song by W. C. Handy or Ma Rainey, it's just the way I've been feeling during this challenging season! "Why can't I get my Lavender plants through the winter?" is definitely one of the top questions we're asked at the nursery (right up there with, "Why won't my Agapanthus bloom?") So I thought it would be an opportune time to discuss this much beloved, and problematic, plant. Although I usually associate Lavender with English and French gardens, it has a history stretching far back into antiquity. The Romans were mad for it, as was Cleopatra. And Queen Elizabeth I required her gardeners to provide fresh Lavender flowers every day of the year. In Gerard's Herbal (1633) he notes, "The distilled water of Lavander smelt onto, or the temples and forehead bathed therewith, is a refreshing to them that have the Catalepsie, a light Migram, & to them that have the falling sicknesse and that use to swoune much." All swooners take note. Lavender needs lots of sun, good drainage and a high pH, so careful siting and an annual topdressing with a little ground limestone will help your plants thrive. So far, my group of Lavender 'Grosso' seems to be weathering this winter pretty well. 'Grosso' is one of the larger cultivars, and gets good ratings for cold hardiness, but my plants are also on the south side of my house, sheltered from the wind, and get immaculate drainage in sandy soil at the top of a retaining wall. Plus we've had a pretty consistent snow cover, and the deer and rabbits ignore them. So I've got my fingers crossed. In general, the English Lavender varieties are considered the hardiest, but are smaller than the French types and more susceptible to fungal diseases. Scent-wise, they're all delicious, but the English Lavenders are the sweetest, while the French varieties have a slightly more resinous smell. The most commonly available English types are 'Munstead' and 'Hidcote', which I've had seed into gravel. The French cultivars like 'Grosso' and 'Provence' make a larger plant with coarser foliage that is handsome even when not in flower. All these are rated USDA Zone 5 hardy. And I'm looking forward to trialing a new variety this year, 'Phenomenal', a vigorous selection discovered in Pennsylvania and said to be hardy even into Zone 4. That being said, we're still in upstate New York, not the south of France, so losses are inevitable. I would never be without a few plants myself, but I don't recommend making Lavender the focus of an elaborate garden design unless you're prepared to replace at least some of the plants just about every year. For a spiky purple effect with less chance of winter kill, I'd suggest using Nepeta 'Walker's Low', Agastache 'Blue Fortune', or one of the hardy Salvias like 'May Night', 'Caradonna' or 'Blue Hill', all more dependable substitutes in our climate. But really, there's nothing quite like the real thing for the fragrance, the neatness and coolness of the foliage, and the associations attached to it. So do as I do and grow Lavenders in moderation, replace and replant where needed, and enjoy one of the great sensuous pleasures of gardening. Thanks for reading, and hang in there... spring's coming! That was one of our favorite sayings at Loomis Creek, and one I thought of this week when I checked these little Helleborus foetidus seedlings perking along in my nursery bed (thanks Betty!). The expression sums up the almost pathological optimism of gardeners everywhere, something that should perhaps be studied by psychologists or geneticists. Maybe they could isolate a DNA sequence that compels us, in spite of yearly failures and frustrations, to look ahead with such hope. Yes, it's all about next year. Next year, I'm going to get the Dahlias planted well before Memorial Day. Next year, that Magnolia is finally going to put on a decent display. Next year, I'll limit myself to a reasonable number of tomato varieties. Next year, I promise myself I'm going to weed out all the Nicotiana seedlings, except for five really good plants. And so on and so on. Now that everything's blanketed under clean new snow, we have a respite from all the demanding fall tasks. We can turn our thoughts to the next growing season, and while this year's triumphs and disappointments are still fresh, begin making lists and plans for 2015. For gardeners, the obsession never ends. I've kept a garden journal for more than twenty years now, and although my entries are somewhat sporadic, it's gratifying to read back over ideas and goals I recorded in years past, many of them realized but some long forgotten. And in my toolshed there's a toolbox full of labels from plants that have died. I call it my "Humility Box". After almost fifty years as a gardener, I still kill a lot of plants. Now I'm busy getting in all the spring orders for perennials, annuals and tropicals for Pondside. We'll have lots of old favorites and standard varieties again, but as always, some new and exciting selections for all of us to try. We're also expanding our sales area with a new shade structure and a few display gardens where we can show off some of the great plants we sell, grown to their full potential. All of us at Pondside are very grateful for your patronage, and wish our customers a wonderful holiday season and a restful dormant period. We look forward to seeing you again... next year! I've loved this Dahlia since I first saw it many years ago at Hudson Bush Farm, the wonderful garden created by Charles Baker and Norman Posner here in Columbia County, NY. But I wasn't aware of its rather long history until I started reading up on it in order to write this post. 'Bishop of Llandaff' was introduced all the way back in 1927 by nurseryman Stephen Treseder of Cardiff, Wales, and was named to honor Joshua Pritchard Hughes, the Bishop of Llandaff, a diocese in South Wales. So now you know. What you probably already knew, if you've grown it before, is how incredibly useful this Dahlia is in the garden, and how well it blends with other plants. I've never been a huge fan of the color red, but these blooms have such a velvety richness that they're simply irresistable... to see it is to want it! As if the flower color weren't enough, the foliage is a deep chocolatey purplish hue with a fern-like texture that sets off the blossoms to perfection. The flowers are medium sized, semi-double, borne on longish stems and keep coming all summer until cut down by a hard frost. The Bishop won the RHS Award of Garden Merit (a very big deal) in 1928, and in 2004 was listed as one of the RHS best plants of the past 200 years. The Bishop grows tall and willowy, not coarse like many of the large-flowered Dahlias, so it fits well into a perennial border. I always staked mine religiously until last year, when I never got around to it, and they just sort of sprawled themselves over their neighbors and kept blooming and blooming. So this year I'm consciously doing the same thing and so far, so good. Like all Dahlias, the tubers must be dug and stored in a frost-free space over the winter if you want to keep them going year after year, but this is a fairly easy task, and well worth it as they increase readily every season. There are plenty of directions on how to do this in standard gardening books and on the internet. Also, consistent deadheading will really keep the plants looking tidy and blooming steadily until frost. Due to the success of 'Bishop of Llandaff', a couple other similar types have been introduced: 'Bishop of Oxford' in rich, glowing orange, and 'Bishop of Canterbury', a gorgeous deep rose pink. Both are semi-doubles with the same deliciously dark foliage as 'Bishop of Llandaff'. Surely one of this trio will fit into whatever color scheme you have going, so I urge you to snag one and give him a try. I guarantee he will be a star in your garden, and unlike a lot of other bishops, won't stir up any trouble! Here in the Hudson Valley, many people say this is their favorite month. And with good reason: the glorious colors seem the culmination of the whole season's growth, a last blast before winter sets in. There are the flaming Maples, of course, but also the buttery yellows of Fox Grapes and Catalpas, the bright scarlet of Sumacs and the deeper reds of Dogwoods and Viburnums. You can find shades of pink, too, in the foliage of Katsuras and Stewartias. Even the lowly weeds color up beautifully when conditions are right, as they must be this year. Cooler temperatures and more consistent temperatures make October a fantastic month for planting trees, shrubs and hardy perennials. I've always had great success dividing or transplanting Hostas and Peonies this month, and of course it's prime season for planting spring bulbs of all kinds. One of the questions nursery employees get asked a lot is, "When's the best time to plant?" The correct answer, almost always, is "Now." In the past, when a lot of nursery stock was sold bare-root or balled and burlapped (B&B), there was a much more restrictive window for planting. But now that the horticulture industry has shifted to most plants being grown and sold in containers, planting can be done at just about any point in the growing season. And because roots continue to grow even after leaves drop, landscape professionals plant all the way into November and beyond, weather permitting. (There are a couple of exceptions... warm season grasses, like Panicums, need at least a month of warm soil to establish, and Ferns establish very slowly, so be careful with these two categories... I try to have either of these in the ground by Labor Day weekend at the latest) Fall planting can help your plants avoid the droughts and stress of summer heat, a pitfall of planting in spring. And you can take advantage of all the end-of-season sales that nurseries do to reduce inventory before winter! In any event, it's a beautiful time to be outdoors, gardening or not, so savor the warm sun, the brilliant blue sky and the gorgeous colors. This is a special time, and never seems to last quite long enough. When it's time to buy and plant annuals for your summer containers, beds or baskets, you may encounter a common problem, and here's an easy solution. Plants that are grown packed together in flats or trays (especially annuals) often get tall and leggy, even though they may be in bud or flowering. I always recommend shearing as a way to promote bushy new growth, ultimately resulting in more blooms per plant in your garden. Reducing the amount of foliage temporarily also helps the transplant settle into its new home, and grow more roots that can support a fuller plant with lots more foliage and flowers. Novice gardeners look on in horror when I show them the point at which the shearing should be done... generally half or more of the plant. But trust me, take a deep breath and cut! You'll sacrifice some in the short run, but reap the rewards many times over as the season goes on. There are also many perennials that benefit from a haircut or two over the growing year... Asters being a particularly good example. An easy way to remember is to shear them on Mothers' Day, Memorial Day and the Fourth of July. After that, let them grow on out and set their buds for September flowering. I'm pretty brutal in my garden, so there's a whole list of perennials I cut right down to the ground after flowering: Daylilies, Comfrey and Pulmonarias to name a few... just to get a tidier flush of new foliage for the rest of the growing season. So remember, in gardening as in life, a little delayed gratification never hurt anyone, so cut back early and enjoy the payoff later in stockier plants and lots more flowers! One season a customer came into the nursery where I was working and asked me what my number one recommendation would be for a fairy garden. (I later googled it... there was a whole trend I knew nothing about) Being at the time completely baffled, I said off the top of my head, "Epimediums". Turns out it was a pretty good guess, probably prompted by the knowledge, somewhere in the back of my addled brain, that one of their common names is "Fairy Wings". Not sure whether that applies to the flowers or the foliage, which is indeed wing-shaped on many of them, but they all have a dainty look that belies their extreme toughness in the garden. In fact, they've become one of my top go-to plants for dry shade, thriving even in the rooty soil under evergreens in my garden. And once you have them established they're remarkably reliable... I now have many clumps of Epimedium x youngianum 'Niveum', all descended from one plant I bought sometime around 1991. They have a reputation for being slow (they'll sit for a year, but then increase steadily) and pricey (most really good plants aren't cheap). But once you discover how charming and useful they are, you'll never want to garden without them. There are dozens of varieties now on the market, so do your homework before investing heavily... some kinds are only hardy to Zone 6 or 7. Early spring is their moment of flowering, just as the new foliage unfurls. The tender new leaves soon toughen up into a shiny, dense mass that smothers all weeds and stays tidy well into the winter. The only maintenance must is to clip off (with scissors) the old stalks and remaining dead foliage very early in the spring, before the delicate new growth pushes up. One more thing... they seem to have very few enemies. I've never known rabbits or deer to eat them, and insects don't bother them either. So maybe they are enchanted. |
Welcome to Sempervivum, an opinionated, sometimes informed and completely unqualified journal of gardens, plants and plantings by artist-gardener Robert Clyde Anderson. Archives
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