Move over, hyacinths. Stand back, amaryllis. It’s time for lily-of-the-valley to take center stage. Yes, lily-of-the-valley!After my hyacinths bulbs rotted last winter and my amaryllis were clearly not going to bloom on my schedule, I was feeling a bit gun-shy about forcing bulbs. In fact, I had made up my mind I wasn’t going to force any.
And then suddenly in December I got it in my head to force lily-of-the-valley. I had always been discouraged from doing this by the price. So the first thing I did after the notion took hold was do some online price comparisons. There was a wide range of prices on Amazon, but I noticed all the inexpensive sources had a number of bad reviews. The one firm that seemed reliable was more expensive than White Flower Farm, which was the source that always seemed expensive in the past (go figure). Maybe because I didn’t have any other bulbs to force, I felt entitled. Or maybe–given the bitter temperatures–I just felt desperate.
I ordered two bunches.
I’d never forced lily-of-the-valley before, so follow along as I give it a whirl.
The roots were well wrapped to keep them moist during shipping and hopefully protected from cold.
Here’s what they look like unwrapped.
Lily-of-the-valley has a creeping rootstock with growth points called pips. The pips are what will grow into leaves and flowers.
Here’s a tip: you don’t need to put broken crockery in the bottom of your pot. A coffee filter is sufficient to keep the soil from leaching out.
White Flower Farm recommended an eight-inch pot, and that was just big enough. If you have a deeper pot, that’s even better. And cold climate gardeners–if you store your potting soil in an unheated shed or garage, bring the bag into the house the day before, so the potting soil can thaw. And your potting soil needs to be moist, of course.
You can trim the roots a bit if you’re having trouble cramming them into the pot.
It’s awkward getting the potting soil down in between all the roots. I was glad for the video White Flower Farm provided (see below) as it looked awkward for the presenter, too.
All done.
You can see the pips peeking out of the soil.
Now, the hard part: waiting.
For the first two weeks, they did nothing. Nothing that I could see, at least. I started to wonder if they had frozen in their box on the porch. Maybe they would never bloom.
After three weeks, I was starting to see some action.
Exactly a month after I potted them up, the first little bells started to open.
If I can keep the plants alive until winter is over, I will plant them in the ground. After a year or two they should bloom outdoors for many years to come. That makes my frugal soul feel justified in the expense.
They bloomed just in time for Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day. Here they are, pictured with all my other January bloomers.
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. Check it out at May Dreams Gardens.
A January thaw I expect. A thaw in February–however pleasant–makes me nervous. Last year we had a mild February–and three feet of snow in March. I would much rather have my seasons in chronological order–first winter, then spring–than to be ping-ponging back and forth between the two. But whether or not I approve, it appears we are having a thaw. In February.
Today the temperature rose to 59°F (15°C). The average high for this time of year is 32°F (0°C). According to the ten-day forecast, every one of those ten days will be warmer than the average.
These are the very first snowdrop sprouts of 2018.
The rest of them are still under snow. And no, I can’t tell you what’s on that label, because I always stick the written-on end in the ground so it stays legible longer, and it’s still frozen in the earth. So, there hasn’t been much thawing yet. But we have at least ten days…
When I sit at my desk and look to the right, this is what I see.
A cold climate gardener expects it to be cold in February, and she prepares for it. In this picture an orchid I’ve had for a couple of years, a miniature orchid I was given yesterday, and the forced lily-of-the-valley–now on the wane–all bask in the southeastern exposure. These are the types of plants I expect to be blooming in February, and indoors is the only place I expect them to be blooming.
My mom gave me this clivia when she moved out of her apartment.
The flower stalk is supposed to be more elongated before it blooms. I probably didn’t withhold water long enough, or the living room didn’t stay cool enough, long enough. No matter. I feast my eyes on the flaming orange petals just as readily with the flowers at half-mast, so to speak.
I know I’m not fooling anybody. I will be thrilled if I have blooming snowdrops–or eranthis–in February. I will enjoy each mild day as it arrives, and if winter comes back to bite me and my garden–well, we’ll deal with that when it happens.
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. Check it out at May Dreams Gardens.
Who doesn’t love a bargain? You can save a lot of money acquiring plants by growing them from seed or obtaining them as seedlings. Sometimes it’s the only way you can even get the plant, as it’s not common enough to be sold in garden centers. The tradeoff? Those plants will take some time to reach blooming size. Most of the plants I’m about to show you have been growing in my garden for a couple of years, but they’re only now starting to look like something. But all of them are a bit unusual, so if you want to branch out from asters and black-eyed Susans, one of these plants might be just what you’re looking for.
I got Persicaria amplexicaulis as a seedling three years ago at a rock garden society plant sale.
Last year I think it had just one flower stalk, but this year it’s starting to make a statement. Mountain Fleece is one of the plants that Piet Oudolf has popularized in his meadow/prairie-style plantings. I have it growing in the Slope Garden, which I consider Oudolf-esque in design.
Also in the Slope Garden are several plants of Sanguisorba tenuifolia ex ‘Purpurea’
I grew these from seed that Nan Ondra sent me. This clump (pictured above) is from seed sown five years ago. The seedlings from two years ago didn’t make flowers at all this year, but that may be because they are too shaded by the peonies they are planted behind.
I bought two seedlings of Verbascum roripifolium from Odyssey Perennials this year, but only this one bloomed.
Unlike most mulleins, it has a very airy habit. I hope both plants make it through the winter and are even taller and more floriferous next year.
This is an ironweed, but–which one?
I got it as Vernonia glauca (upland or broad-leaved ironweed) for free at a rock garden plant sale three years ago. (You get free plants at a plant sale when you linger until the end, when they give away the plants that didn’t sell.) I accepted this name as valid until I started writing this blog post, and discovered everyone that sells this plant seems to think it’s only hardy to USDA zone 6. Well, they could be wrong–could be no one has tried it in colder winters. (Or could be I haven’t had a zone 5 winter in quite a while.)
Or, it could be the much more common New York ironweed (Vernonia noveboracensis). I’m having trouble figuring this out, because not too many sites show pictures of the leaves, and the flower color varies depending on how long that particular inflorescence has been in bloom. Also, I don’t think I’ve ever seen New York ironweed “in person.” New York ironweed is supposed to be taller; broad-leaved ironweed presumably has broader leaves. But I have nothing in my experience to compare it to.
Take a look at these leaves: Do they look like New York ironweed or upland ironweed leaves?
Yellow wax bells came from another gardener.
Kirengeshoma palmata flowers hang down like primrose-yellow bells…
…but it’s well worth peeking inside.
This plant likes moist soil and a bit of shade. Online sources describe it as “shrub-like,” but while my plant is four to five feet tall, it’s not very bushy yet. Well, my division from my friend is only three years old.
Snakeroot sounds rather threatening, so they gave it the sexy name of ‘Black Negligee’.
Actaea simplex ‘Black Negligee’ departs from the young-and-cheap plants theme of this post, as I got it in 2009. But, it is an unusual, fall-blooming perennial. The flowers smell like grapes warm in the sun, and the dark foliage provides a nice contrast to the green of the yellow wax bells.
Another sexy-name plant: Chelone lyonii ‘Hot Lips’
Somehow the common name of pink turtlehead pales in comparison. You’ve got to admit, those flowers have some zing. This was also shared by a friend. You can see a bit of the yellow wax bells in the background. They like the same moist conditions.
Daylilies aren’t unusual, but Hemerocallis ‘Steeple Jackie’ is unusual for a daylily.
Not only does it bloom in the fall (“late” in daylily parlance, which is autumn for me), but the flowers are both more numerous and smaller. And it’s tall for a daylily, too. I’m looking forward to dividing this and spreading it around my garden once it gets bigger.
I hope you learned of at least one new plant to bring a little variety to your fall garden. And if you already grow some (or all) of these, tell me what you like about them.
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. Check it out at May Dreams Gardens.
Where do people get this silly idea that hardly anything blooms in autumn? I gave my colchicum presentation this week and one attendee remarked that I inspired her to have color in her fall garden. There’s plenty of color in my fall garden, without even looking at the trees. Here’s just a sampling of what I see as I stroll around.
‘Ruby Mound’ chrysanthemum (Dendranthema hybrid) is a true, rich red.
As more buds opened and the stems got top heavy, it has started to flop. The floppiness is why I’m supposed to pinch the stems back before July 4th, but I’m afraid it will delay bloom on an already pretty late bloomer. I guess I should pinch some stems and leave the others to see how much it really does delay flowering.
Fire Light® hydrangea, a sample plant from Proven Winners, is almost as red as ‘Ruby Mound’–almost.
Fire Light® flowers open white and gradually deepen in color. When I opened my garden to the public for colchicum viewing last year, many people asked me the name of this hydrangea. It’s the same species as ‘Pee Gee’ hydrangea, but with a lot more bang for your buck. And it’s hardy to USDA Zone 3, people!
This is blooming, but the flowers aren’t the main point of ‘Kingswood Gold’ jewels of Opar (Talinum paniculatum).
I grew this from seed and placed it to contrast with the ‘Grape Expectations’ heuchera and the ‘Glory of Heemstede’ colchicum. Gardeners in warmer climates complain that this seeds everywhere and becomes a nuisance. I’m wondering how many of the seeds will germinate with frost due to come this week. I have read that the roots can be dug and stored over winter like dahlias, and I’m planning to try that this year, as well as collect some seed.
New to me this year–monkshood.
I got some starts from a friend, who didn’t know which monkshood it was. It took so long to start blooming that I wondered if it had died on me. Nope, it’s just getting started.
This mum is called Sheffield Pink, but it looks more apricot to me.
I’ve been growing this for several years now, and it will bloom into November. The flowers can get knocked back by a hard freeze, but then more flowers open with the next warm spell.
‘Jindai’ Tatarian aster has gotten ruined by frost in past years.
I’ve dug it up and given it to friends whose growing season lasts longer. But it grows back from every small piece of root, so I still have it, and this year I’m glad of it. It’s really pretty and we haven’t had frost yet.
Once you build up your supply of colchicums, you can really make a statement.
‘The Giant’ colchicum draws your eye to this bed, where Little Quick Fire® hydrangea, a sample plant from Proven Winners, glows up above, and golden feverfew zings up the corner.
More inspiration for a great autumn garden
These are some of my posts from previous autumns. They feature other great plants for fall.
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. Check it out at May Dreams Gardens.
I‘ve been growing houseplants since high school, but I never stop learning new things about them. Take zygocacti (Schlumbergera)–popularly known as Thanksgiving cactus and Christmas cactus. The standard advice is to put them in a dark place for 12-14 hours a night in order to get them to bloom. In high school I avoided growing Christmas cactus because I knew I would never remember to do that night after night.
My mother-in-law didn’t follow that advice. She put hers in the basement family room until they set buds, and then brought them upstairs to enjoy the blooms. I don’t think she used that family room very often, so maybe they got the darkness they needed that way as well. Who knows?
But it inspired me to give them a try, especially since she was kind enough to root a piece for me. In my previous home they started blooming right on schedule after spending time in a (not dark) upstairs bedroom. But in this house bloom had been sporadic–until I followed the advice of my readers. Many of you told me in the comments that you took them outside for the summer and left them outside until they were in danger of getting frosted. (Which is not necessarily at the time of the first frost, because if the first frost is light and they are stationed on the porch or hanging from a tree, the frost may not touch them.)
Now they bloom abundantly, but not at Thanksgiving or Christmas. No, they have buds on them within days of coming inside, and are blooming abundantly right now!
This is my most prolific Christmas Thanksgiving cactus, a hand-me-down from my mother.
I’ve recently realized that even though my mother bought it blooming sometime in December, the leaves indicate that it’s actually a Thanksgiving cactus. The Laidback Gardener illustrates the differences clearly. The Christmas cactus that came from my mother-in-law (not pictured), which I’ve had for far longer, is just setting buds and may bloom for Thanksgiving. I think it’s a true Christmas cactus, indicated by its leaves.
This is another “Thanksgiving” cactus, blooming well before Thanksgiving, but not as soon as the one from my mom.
One of my friends told me that she doesn’t concern herself with light or temperature. To get her zygocactus to bloom, she withholds water for about a month, and then starts watering again. Matt Mattus of Growing With Plants says withholding water to induce bloom is a myth. But it works for my friend! Providing a sharp change in temperature by leaving the plants outside in early fall worked for me.
Lesson learned: There are a lot of variables involved in getting these plants to bloom. And it also varies from plant to plant. If one method doesn’t work for you, try a different method–or try a combination of methods.
This is a paperwhite narcissus called ‘Wintersun’.
The first time I grew paperwhite narcissus, my husband complained about the awful stink. Then I read in an old issue of the Old House Gardens newsletter: “The general rule is the more yellow in the flower (cups or petals) the better the scent (inherited from Narcissus tazetta orientalis) and the more white, the more ‘manure’ the scent (inherited from N. papyraceous).” Lesson learned:
Not all paperwhites are stinky! This year I’m growing ‘Wintersun’ which I purchased from Colorblends. The fragrance is delightful when the flowers first open, but as they age, the fragrance changes subtly and is not as pleasant. But I can’t smell them at all unless I bring my nose close. And I love the way they look!
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. Check it out at May Dreams Gardens.
The Christmas cactus is blooming better than it has in years.
I count twelve blooms on it, which is double–maybe triple–what it had last year. I attribute that to following my readers’ advice and summering it outside for the past two years. And I’m pretty sure it’s a bona fide Christmas cactus, because there are no points on its leaves.
The poinsettia my friend gave me is thriving.
It’s not as easy to keep a poinsettia happy as you might think. They don’t like drafts. But they also don’t like it if you keep the wrapper on too long, because they start poisoning themselves with the ethylene gas they give off. They like their soil moist–but not too moist, because then they get root rot. So, yay me for keeping the poinsettia happy.
My clivia is blooming!
I think it’s early for a clivia to bloom. I keep it in a cool room that I rarely go into, so it also doesn’t get watered very frequently. In fact, it’s got one of those glass globes with a long stem, which I filled with water, and the water level hasn’t dropped in weeks. I’m not sure whether that means the clivia doesn’t need water at the moment, or the glass globe thingy doesn’t work. But it worked for my mom before she gave the plant to me. And the clivia is blooming.
My ‘Wintersun’ paperwhites got off to a great start.
The first flower was pretty and softly fragrant. I could see swollen buds with the promise of many blooms to come.
But instead of blooming, the buds blasted.
Bud blast is just what it looks like–the buds dry up and turn brown and papery. This happened the last time I tried to grow tazetta paperwhites indoors. And I didn’t realize this when I bought them, but the last time I bought paperwhites, it was also ‘Wintersun’.
So what went wrong?
Short answer: I don’t know. Here’s some things I’m considering.
Could it be the variety? If I had realized I had grown ‘Wintersun’ before, I would have chosen a different variety.
I used the alcohol and water method to help reduce their height, which I hadn’t done last time. But lots of other people do that, and their buds don’t blast.
Brent and Becky’s Bulbs say that if the paperwhites are too warm, the buds will blast. My kitchen does get warm, but the bulbs were sitting right up against a single pane, old-fashioned window, so I thought they would be cooler than the rest of the room.
I skipped forcing paperwhites for two years because I was so discouraged about this bud-blasting. But I missed growing them, and bought two dozen for this winter. The plan was to start some in time for Thanksgiving–they blasted.
I planted my second batch of bulbs–hopefully to bloom around Christmas–individually in these humorous mugs.
This batch is sitting on my desk, which is pushed up against a door we don’t use that also has a single, uninsulated pane of glass. And my desk is even further from the woodstove than the kitchen, so it’s cooler to begin with. In general, these bulbs are growing more slowly than the previous batch, but one shot up faster than the others (yes, that guy in the middle), had one pretty flower, and then it, too, blasted.
Waaaaaaah.
Maybe I’m no good at estimating how much water these bulbs in non-draining containers need. Perhaps I’m putting in too much water or not enough–or alternating between both those things.
I still have some bulbs left, and I’m going to pot these up in potting soil, in a container that drains. The only problem being this container is round, and thus more difficult to place where it will get enough light. I will have to figure out a good location. You can be sure I will let you know if I succeed and these paperwhites bloom. And you’ll probably hear about it if I get bud blast again, because I like sympathy.
Wishing all my readers a joyous holiday season.
Posted for Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day. 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. Check it out at May Dreams Gardens.
Last month I told you about my failures forcing paperwhites. The first batch, packed into a narrow container that fit on the windowsill, blasted almost all their buds. My hopes were then pinned on the second batch, which I thought would bloom in time for Christmas. But they didn’t.
These paperwhites are taller than their last picture, but aren’t close to blooming. Why?
I was watering them with a mixture of alcohol and water. Perhaps that stunted their growth too much? Maybe it was inconsistent watering? After all, I can’t see the water level. Or just plain not enough room for root growth?
If at first you don’t succeed . . .
On December 16th, I potted up my final batch of paperwhites, this time in potting soil. Lacking any more window space, I put them down in the 50°F(10°C) basement, under my seed starting lights and on the heat mat.
I raised the lights several inches above the bulbs, but on January 4th I noticed they had grown right up into the lights. Imagine my surprise when I raised the lights and discovered they had been blooming right up against the fluorescent bulbs.
The short blooming flower stalks were pressed up against the lights. The taller ones grew up and around the reflector shield.
But hey, they grew and bloomed.
Hallelujah! This is what I’ve been waiting for!
I will certainly try that next year, checking on them more frequently. Stronger light, cooler temps, bottom heat, potting soil, no alcohol. And the ones in the face mugs still haven’t bloomed. I’m going to put them under the lights today and see what happens, because I’m kicking them off the glass shelf to make room for…
…the hyacinths that it’s time to force.
Yes, their ten weeks of chilling are up–and just in time, because the potting soil paperwhites are just about done blooming. I’ve been hogging precious refrigerator real estate to make sure the hyacinths get the chilling they need. I’m just never sure the basement will stay consistently between 40°F(4.4°C) and 50°F(10°C), which is what they require. The one that’s already showing buds is a gift from a friend, purchased at Aldi’s. How they get theirs to bloom so much earlier is a mystery to me.
Pay someone else to grow them
If I hadn’t remembered to order hyacinths bulbs, or if they had all gone moldy in the refrigerator, I would not have hesitated to purchase some at Aldi’s or any other place I could find them. Winter is a battle to keep your sanity and you should avail yourself of every (legal) means available to win the fight. Certainly you should not limit yourself to forced bulbs!
My husband was kind enough to gift me this sweet pot of primroses from the grocery store.
The nice thing about these primulas is that they are winter-hardy. As long as I can keep them alive through the rest of the winter, I can plant them out this spring and enjoy them in springs to come. My husband appreciates their wonderful scent, but I really can’t smell much of anything. That makes me a little bit sad, because fragrance is one of the things I treasure about flowers. Our family is divided: some can smell the primrose fragrance, and others can’t. How about you?
Meanwhile, in the Cabin Fever Bed…
One Helleborus niger is attempting to bloom. This was November 10th.
Some elongation of the stem by December 21st
Be still my heart! Has that bud actually opened a bit? January 2nd. And methinks I see two other buds!
The common name for this plant is Christmas rose, but clearly that ship has sailed and I might actually see open flowers by March. The plants have a light covering of snow right now, and with 8 to 12 inches(20.3 to 30.5cm) predicted for this weekend, I don’t expect to see any more progress in the near future. But at least I know there is a future!
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. Check it out at May Dreams Gardens.
In my quest to extend the gardening season by growing very early and very late blooming plants, I have begun growing “spring”-blooming* witch hazels. In 2017 I planted ‘Ripe Corn,’ ‘Orange Encore,’ and ‘Birgit’–all Hamamelis x intermedia (hybrids of H. japonica crossed with H. mollis). Only ‘Birgit’ is alive; the other two were eaten during the winter. Last year I planted ‘Pallida,’ ‘Diane,’ and H. vernalis. The vernal witch hazel, as H. vernalis is called, is native to southeastern United States and hardy to USDA Zone 4b. It opened a few blossoms in the most recent thaw.
The vernal witch hazel takes the prize for the earliest bloom.
I concede the shrub didn’t open more than two or three flowers before the next cold wave barreled through. It was a small but potent victory, nonetheless. The vernal witch hazel was in a substantial #3 pot, but ‘Diane’ and ‘Pallida’ were both mere one year old cuttings, so I’m surprised to see ‘Diane’ has flower buds, all five of them. (I’ll post pictures on Instagram and Facebook as soon as it blooms!)
A few snowdrops (Galanthus spp.)were sighted in the Herb Garden and the wettest part of the Secret Garden.
You may recall that the Herb Garden is the warmest microclimate in my garden. And there is a spot in the Secret Garden that perpetually seeps water. As a result the soil thaws there sooner and that’s why those snowdrops are emerging earlier than their neighbors. Consulting my image archives, I know that I’ve had snowdrops blooming by the end of February in a few years. But they have also often been buried in snow again in March. Looking at the current ten-day weather forecast, I don’t expect to see February snowdrop blossoms this year.
This past autumn I followed my own advice and planted a combination of two mixtures from Colorblends: Woodland Blend and Aladdin’s Carpet on the downhill side of this septic tank access.
Several grape hyacinths from the mixes are poking up, along with a few other bulbs I couldn’t quite identify.
The soil is poor here and the grass grows slowly, so I don’t think it will need to be mowed before the foliage has died down. And yes, sooner or later something will go wrong with the septic system and it will need to be dug up, quite possibly where the bulbs are planted. I’m just betting it will be later, and I will have many years to enjoy these early spring bloomers.
Meanwhile, inside the house . . .
A trial plant from Proven Winners, this Rockin’ Fuchsia salvia cutting bloomed under the lights in my basement.
Taking cuttings was one of the challenges I gave myself going into this winter. I really was not expecting the cuttings to bloom. I’m probably supposed to pinch the flowers out, but I didn’t.
Hyacinth forcing is meeting with mixed success.
All the above bulbs were started at the same time, and look at the difference in root growth! I’m hoping the bulbs without roots are just a different, more pokey variety and not dead in the water. I still have a few more bulbs in the fridge. It seems like forcing them in soil might work better, but then you miss the fun of seeing the roots develop. However, when the roots don’t develop and the bulbs rot it’s no fun at all.
These two did well, and each bulb had two flowers!
All of these hyacinths were from the Etouffee mix from Colorblends so I don’t know the variety names of the (hopefully) four colors.
During our last thaw, I cut some forsythia branches.
A week later, they are blooming.
That worked well! Maybe next I will try forcing some flowering quince. My friend Christine Froelich published an excellent how-to post on forcing branches for winter bloom. It reminded me of some of the little tips and tricks (like cutting the branches down to size outside) that make the whole process go more smoothly.
Challenging myself to learn more about plants by trying new techniques and by researching and growing unfamiliar plants helps me grow as a gardener–and as a person. I try not to get discouraged about the failures because even they teach me something. For example, the ‘Diane’ and ‘Pallida’ witch hazels are caged so they don’t meet the same fate as ‘Ripe Corn’ and ‘Orange Encore.’ It’s all about being a hardy soul and not letting winter get the best of me. What cabin-fever-fighting tricks do you have in your arsenal?
*About those “spring”-blooming witch hazels: They are spring-blooming only to distinguish them from the fall-blooming Hamamelis virginiana. Most people would call them winter-blooming, but that would confuse us cold climate gardeners. Mud-season-blooming is closer to the mark.
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. Check it out at May Dreams Gardens.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. And who is more desperate than the cold climate gardener who’s been inundated with social media images of spring flowers blooming in warmer climates?
Thank goodness my “desperate measures” are already in place. I’ve been planting early blooming bulbs where the snow melts first for several years. And every time the snow starts to melt, I check all those places for signs of emerging sprouts.
Yes, I check during every thaw, even the January and February ones, and sometimes I do see the green points of leaves-to-come. This week we had a real thaw, with temps rising into the 60s (~16C) on the last two days, and I was rewarded with blooms in many places. But it started with just one bloom several days earlier.
The very first flowering bulb of 2019.
I felt a little sheepish when I posted this on Facebook and got comments like “You give me hope” and “You beat me, Kath.”
People, I planted this over the septic tank!
It was the only place the snow had melted at the beginning of the thaw. It was one teeny flower surrounded on all sides by snow. And yes, it gave me hope, too, which is exactly why I planted a mix of Aladdin’s Carpet and Woodland Blend (both from Colorblends) over the septic tank last fall. It’s not a traditional flower bed, but the snow melts there first, and the grass grows sparsely there so mowing can be delayed until the foliage of these early bloomers goes dormant.
By the last day of the thaw, I had three winter aconites blooming there.
I also had them blooming up against the house. Look how many are yet to come!
And when I say “up against the house,” I do mean right up against it, under my cabin fever window.
I also had the early-blooming snowdrop, Galanthus ‘S.Arnott’, blooming in several locations. These are at the base of an Incrediball hydrangea.
Crocus korolkowii ‘Black-eyed Beauty’, my earliest blooming crocus, was also opening up.
But of course, the thaw didn’t last. The temperature dropped back into the 30s (~1.5C) and we’ve had more snow–though it has melted off the road. Another thaw is predicted for this upcoming weekend. Soon the thaws will run into each other and the snow will become a distant memory. But not yet.
Meanwhile, inside the house . . .
This amaryllis has sent up five stalks, two of which are done. There is a sixth stalk emerging!
The buds of the flowering quince that I brought inside to force are not quite the size of peas yet. I hope they will bloom indoors before the shrub blooms outdoors.
I have never tried forcing flowering quince before. The forsythia I cut earlier this year bloomed within a week. The quince has been in the house for a good two weeks and looks like it will take another week (at least) to bloom.
Experimenting with forcing branches indoors helps keep things interesting in between mud season treasure hunts for the earliest bloom. If you need more early-blooming plants in your yard, make sure you take pictures of where the snow melts first, and order some “desperate measures” this fall.
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. Check it out at May Dreams Gardens.
How was your winter? My winter was pretty mild, and mud season started in February, with alternating snows and thaws. I was fortunate to miss a heavy snowfall that buried gardeners north of here, so mud season is here in earnest now, and I’m enjoying the rewards of planting the earliest blooms where the snow melts first. As of yesterday, all the snow has melted. As of today, it’s snowing but not sticking to paved surfaces–except it switches to rain every so often. That’s mud season for you.
Since it’s been warmer than usual overall–but not too warm–the flowers have been opening slowly and lasting a long time. Many of them would typically be featured in an April blog post. The days with sunny, warm weather spoil me. When we get a cloudy, snowy, blustery day I have to remind myself that this is only March, and it could be worse–like three-feet of snow worse.
Because our winters are so long, the very beginnings of spring take on a greater importance, and every blooming plant is a treasure. Take a look at what’s growing in my garden–and what I’d like to add–and make next year’s mud season a little more floriferous in your garden.
The earliest of the early
Winter aconites (Eranthis hyemalis) bring sunshine to mud season.
Later on, this semi-double form shows up, as well as many more clumps of the common ones as the snow continues to melt. More about winter aconites here.
These ‘S. Arnott’ snowdrops are the best.
Very early, very showy (large flowers plus tall for a snowdrop), multiplying quickly, and fragrant–‘S. Arnott’ snowdrops are a great investment and perfect for beginners.
See how showy they are?
Every so often I dig a bunch up, divide and replant. I planted them singly around the wellhead three years ago, and look at them now! Want to know more about snowdrops? Read this post.
Cyclamen coum
Cyclamen coum flowers are tiny but intensely colored. They usually bloom soon after the snowdrops and aconites. I used to think these weren’t hardy here, but some sources say they are hardy to USDA Zone 4, so I gave them a try a couple of years ago, and they are doing fine.
Leucojum vernum, the spring snowflake
I always hesitate to show this flower, because it’s almost impossible to find unless you know someone who’s growing it and is willing to share. Because it dies if it dries out, commercial nurseries can’t or won’t ship it. I bought some from Daffodils and More one of the few times they offered it and I checked–they don’t plan to offer it again.
The spring snowflake blooms right after the three described above and before the main crocus show. Don’t confuse it with the “summer” snowflake (Leucojum aestivum) which blooms with the daffodils and thus is a spring-bloomer by most gardeners’ reckoning. It tolerates being dry while dormant and so is easily shipped and widely available.
Crocuses
Crocus x leonidii ‘Early Gold’
The earliest blooming crocuses for me are cultivars of Crocus korolkowii. ‘Early Gold’ is next. I plant them in spots along the front walk where the snow melts first. I get them from Odyssey Bulbs.
Crocus tommasianus
Crocus tommasianus cultivars bloom next. These are the ones known as “tommies” and are reputed to be the most rodent-resistant. They are widely available, sometimes as a mix and sometimes in separate colors. Some say they self-sow, but I’m not sure they are doing that in my lawn.
The crocuses I planted in the lawn aren’t making as big a show as they did in my former garden.
Read about the crocus lawn here and here. I’m not sure why these crocuses don’t seem as showy as the Crocus Bank at the old house. It may be they are getting mowed too soon, and thus don’t have enough photosynthesis to create next year’s flowers. I don’t think they are getting eaten (much) because I do see leaves come up in spots where there are no flowers. Perhaps they aren’t dry enough in summer. Click here for more info about crocuses.
Spring-blooming colchicums
Colchicum munzurense
Yes, Virginia, there are colchicums that bloom in the spring (and crocuses that bloom in the fall). Most of them seem a bit touchy about drainage, meaning I grew them once before and lost them, and I’m trying again. Three years ago, Colchicum munzurense bloomed on February 20th before any snowdrop or aconite. But it never bloomed again. I’m trying it again this year, but I planted it in a trough which I kept in a (dark) unheated garage. I didn’t bring the trough out until March. Maybe it would have bloomed in February if I brought the trough out sooner. Or maybe the alternate freezing and thawing would have done it in. This is only Year One of an ongoing experiment.
Colchicum hungaricum ‘Valentine’
Colchicum hungaricum ‘Valentine’ bloomed in February for the guy who named it. I think it also bloomed pinker for him than it does for me. However, the last time I grew this plant, it bloomed in April. It grew in the Cabin Fever bed back then, and now it’s planted along the front walk, not far from the ‘Early Gold’ crocus. I do think mud season is early this year.
Colchicum laetum
Colchicum laetum is planted in the same trough as C. munzurense: I wanted to give it better drainage, and I’m not sure how hardy it is. Actually, I’m not even certain that it’s C. laetum, because it’s supposed to be fall-blooming. But that’s the only name I have, and it’s blooming now.
Bulbocodium vernum
Bulbocodium vernum is also called Colchicum bulbocodium. As best as I can tell, the experts haven’t yet made up their mind. If it is a colchicum, it’s the easiest of the spring-blooming colchicums to grow. It actually multiplied enough that I dug it up and planted offsets in a new location. It’s also a little easier to find–you can get it from Brent and Becky’s Bulbs, for example.
Hellebores
HGC® Pink Frost
Fun fact: Sometimes hellebores are sold as pot plants in a grocery store, and they often cost less than they would in a nursery. I bought ‘Jacob’ from my local Wegmans around Christmas one year, but I couldn’t keep it alive until the ground thawed in mud season. Four years ago I bought ‘Pink Frost’ around Easter and it didn’t have to spend so much time in the house and–well, here it is. Cool temperatures bring out the red coloring, I think.
Helleborus niger ‘HGC Josef Lemper’, H. n. ‘Thanksgiving Bloom,’ Cyclamen hederfolium foliage, and scattered winter aconites make looking out the Cabin Fever window a delight.
Helleborus niger goes by the common name of Christmas rose, and in warmer climates these hellebores bloom in the fall–even as early as October–and bloom throughout the winter. ‘Thanksgiving Bloom’ was so named by Ellen Hornig because it reliably bloomed in November for her. It’s a rare year that I actually get to see an open flower before they get covered in snow. But never fear–these tough plants just patiently wait until the snow melts and bloom during mud season. For pictures of my other Cabin Fever Bed hellebores, check out this post and this one.
Early-blooming woodies
Ozark witch hazel (Hamamelis vernalis)
Early-blooming bulbs respond to increasing soil temperature. Early-blooming shrubs and trees respond to warming air temperature. If we get a mild spell in February they can be blooming before the snow is off the ground. That’s why I’ve started experimenting with spring-blooming witch hazels. The Ozark witch hazel is a smallish native tree hardy to USDA Zone 4. It has bloomed each February since I got it two years ago. However, even though it’s the largest of all my witch hazels (bought in a 3 gallon pot) it’s still not what I’d call showy.
Maybe as it gets bigger it will be more showy. I’ve read that it’s best to place a witch hazel so that it has a solid background behind it, such as the wall of a building, a big evergreen conifer, or even backed by a snowy hill. Mine is planted at the edge of the woodsy Secret Garden, viewed from the lawn. That also means it’s only getting sun from one side. Sunlight is what powers flower development, so perhaps it will never be that showy. It still provides a reason to get out of the house during February and March!
‘Birgit’ witch hazel
‘Birgit’ is the one witch hazel where I followed the design advice to plant it in front of a solid background–in this case, our detached garage. It was quite a bit smaller than the Ozark witch hazel when I planted it two years earlier, and it’s still not as big. ‘Birgit’ is a hybrid of H. japonica and H. mollis, which is written H. x intermedia. This class of hybrids is generally considered hardy to USDA Zone 5. I still can’t believe my garden is a zone warmer than it used to be, so planting these hybrids feels like gambling to me. And it’s certainly gambling when it comes to rabbits–I’ve lost two different ones to them.
Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Angelly’
Every year that I go to the Ithaca Garden Fair, I stop by Coldwater Pond Nursery’s display and see what they have in the way of witch hazels. They offer one-year grafts of many woody plants, and it’s a relatively inexpensive way to experiment. Last year I picked up ‘Angelly’, reputed to be one of the yellowest-flowering cultivars. And that is all the blooming I got from this baby tree–enough to get the idea.
I also got Hamamelis x intermedia ‘Aphrodite’ last year.Daphne mezereum, the “February” daphne
February daphne is a wonderful shrub for mud season, hardy to USDA Zone 4 and fragrant. I don’t understand why more nurseries don’t offer it. I suspect it doesn’t root from cuttings, and growing from seed isn’t profitable. Consequently this is another perfect plant for cold climates that you need to “know someone” in order to acquire it. A gardening friend gave me seedlings from her well-established shrub. So far I haven’t seen any seedlings from mine. My “February” daphne usually blooms in April, so I’m quite pleased to have it bloom a couple weeks early.
I need these plants!
I am always on the hunt for more, better, and different plants for the very earliest blooms in mud season. My gardening season is too short to waste a minute of it!
Adonis amurensis. Photo courtesy Steve Whitesell
Somehow I thought adonis was only hardy to USDA Zone 6. Just recently I saw it on Steve Whitesell’s Instagram feed and my jaw dropped. He gardens in the Catskills, in a climate equally as cold as mine, and told me he’s had his for ten years and it’s hardy to USDA Zone 4. This is another plant uncommon in the trade. According to Louis Raymond, the seed isn’t viable for long, seedlings don’t like to be moved, and divisions are best made after the plant goes dormant. Plus, it’s slow growing. Nevertheless, I’ll be keeping my eye out for this beauty.
Iris ‘Lady Beatrix Stanley’
I have grown ‘Lady Beatrix Stanley’ before, but they all died on me. Further research indicates they like a free-draining soil and need dry heat in summer to set flowers. At least one bulb catalog calls them rock garden plants, so I think I will try them again in the herb garden. Maybe I will have to consider them annuals and replant every year. I really don’t want to be without that blue!
I hope you saw something you want to add to your own garden. Most of the bulbs are so small, you can tuck them in anywhere. It’s a good time to take a look around to see if there’s room for a witch hazel or a daphne. And, who knows? Maybe your grocery store is selling hellebores!
Move over, hyacinths. Stand back, amaryllis. It’s time for lily-of-the-valley to take center stage. Yes, lily-of-the-valley!
After my hyacinths bulbs rotted last winter and my amaryllis were clearly not going to bloom on my schedule, I was feeling a bit gun-shy about forcing bulbs. In fact, I had made up my mind I wasn’t going to force any.
