Seeding Sweet Peas

the gardener's workshop high scent sweet peasCould there be any fragrance more enchantingly reminiscent of spring than from the flowers of the sweet pea?  “High Scent” is a cultivar of sweet pea known for its fresh and sweet scent.  Sweet peas, indeed. The creamy white flowers are edged in pale lavender.  Divine. Like edible peas, the plants are vining, and grow to 6 feet tall. They want the same cool conditions that all peas want. They will continue to grow and bloom as long as the nights are cool, and the days not too hot.  Mulching helps to keep the root runs cool. Once the heat of the summer arrives, the edible and ornamental peas wane, and quit producing.  Sweet peas is just one of many things that come to mind when I think of English gardens.  The climate in England means the run of the annual sweet peas is a long run.  Sweet peas are are difficult to grow in my area, unless we have a long cool spring.  I usually buy them as cut flowers when they are in season.  I have never tried to grow them.  All the literature suggests that sweet pea failure in my zone would be predictable.  Both this vase of high scent sweet peas, and the fabulous photograph is from The Gardener’s Workshop Flower Farm in Newport News, Virginia.  If they can be grown in Virginia, might I not be able to grow them?

sweet-pea-seeds.jpgWhy on earth am I thinking about sweet peas? This past weekend I had the pleasure of meeting and spending an hour with Fergus Garrett, head gardener and designer at Great Dixter in England. He was in town for the Spring Symposium  arranged and given by the Master Gardeners of St Clair County.  One of his hosts brought him by the shop.  His favorite thing of all was an old perennial spade of mine that I have had for years that he found in the tool closet in the garage. Figures!  I am thinking I should send that old spade to him. He also talked with Rob about English hurdles and hurdle makers.  Malcolm Seal is a close personal friend of his, and anyone who goes to the gardening school at Great Dixter learns how to make sweet chestnut sheep’s hurdles.  The hurdle talk, and the company of one of England’s most celebrated gardeners got me to thinking about sweet peas.

sweet-pea-seeds.jpgAnother pea reason-the state of our wintery spring.  Marlene Uhlianuk who owns Uhlianuk Farms in Armada stopped by for our hellebore festival.  She said the ice on Lake Huron near her was 3 feet thick in places.  Too deep for ice fishermen to augur through.  Her theory is that it will take a very long time for all that ice to melt.  She wonders if the ice cover on the great lakes will cool air passing over, and influence our summer weather.  As in a chilly summer.  I am thinking about the possibility that a cold summer may follow a very cold winter. Well, if the summer will be cold, maybe I’ll be able to grow sweet peas.  This is the optimist in me.  The one seed in the above picture that did not swell-I pitched it.  I doubt it will germinate.

sowing-seeds.jpgA third reason?  It was 12 degrees here again today.  Meaning that the we are still ice bound and snowed under.  Any gardening would have to be conducted indoors.  It only took a moment for me to forget about the winter, and concentrate on sowing my seeds.  Seeds with hard seed coats benefit from a process called scarification.  The hard coating can be abraded with a piece of sandpaper, so water can penetrate.  Or you can soak the seeds.  I soaked for 24 hours, and then set the seeds about an inch below the surface.  I made sure that the soiless mix in my flats was thoroughly wet.  This part takes a while. It may look wet on the top, and be bone dry in the middle. Once a seed has begun to germinate, it cannot dry out.  Too dry conditions for even a short time can kill a developing seedling.

growing-plants-on-the-sill.jpgSweet peas can take 1 to 2 weeks to germinate.  As I am sowing them rather late, I’ll keep the seed flats in a warmish place until they germinate.  Then I’ll move them into the shop greenhouse-a cool place.  Marlene thinks it unlikely that I will get flowers as I am starting seeds so late, but if the summer stays cool, who knows what could happen.  At the worst, I will have entertained my winter weary self with a garden narrative.

seed-flats.jpgNow all there is to do is wait.  Sweet peas are very slow to germinate.  I have the time.  The time it takes for these seeds to germinate will be vastly less than the time we have taken enduring the winter.

sweet-pea-white“White Elegance”  is beautiful.  It is not particularly fragrant.  It is a day-neutral plant, meaning that it will bud and bloom regardless of the length of the day.  I have a flat of these seeds sowed.  “High Scent” is a long day flowering sweet pea, meaning the daylight hours need to be longer than the night time hours for flowering to be initiated.  The seeds of this sweet pea, soaked and sown.

Lathyrus latifolius mixedMy third packet of seeds-the rambling and vining perennial sweet pea.  Lathyrus Latifolius.  Perennial sweet peas grow over on the property at the Branch studio.  Who knows how they got there.  I have seen them scrambling down wild embankments along the highways in Michigan.  Blooming in shades of white pink and red, they are a cottage garden favorite where they have room to grow.  This gorgeous illustration is from the website of Van Meuven.  Who wouldn’t want to grow this plant?  If I get any to grow lustily from my seed sowing, I may plant them on the fence at the Branch Studio.  Any plant that represents in spite of the tough and unpredictable Michigan gardening conditions is worth a look.  I planted some seeds today, in hopes of having a garden again soon.

At A Glance: What’s Growing On

pot-of-crocus.jpgpot of crocus

hyacinths-and-muscari.jpghyacinths and muscari

spring-pots.jpghellebore

cyclamen.jpgcyclamen

helleborus-orientalis.jpggreen hellebore

potted-bulbs.jpgpotted hyacinths

yellow-hellebore.jpgyellow hellebore

purple-crocus.jpgcrocus opening

spotted-hellebore.jpg
spotted hellebore

A Belated Valentine

cut-flowers.jpgI did have Valentines flowers to arrange and deliver Friday, most of which got away from me before I could photograph them.  But the process of arranging gave me some time to think about them-the flowers, that is.  In the dead center of February, in the middle of a too cold snowy and icy winter, I had tulips, roses, alstromeria, waxflower, ranunculus, lisianthus, tracelium, white button pomps, black red carnations and godetia in my hands.  Just the smell of all of that fresh and living was pretty exciting.  Like most gardeners, I am used to the dirt that nature dishes out.  But this winter came early, and shows no sign of letting up, months later. I have to admit I am ready for a change of seasons.  No wonder Valentine’s Day comes at this time of year.

flowers.jpgThis winter began for us in November.  By Thanksgiving, the ground was well on its way to freezing, and we had snow.  We are closing in on three months in which we have had snow entirely covering the ground, and cold that penetrates to the bone in a matter of minutes.  Of course I am dreaming in color.  And thinking about flowers.  Nothing in my environment is green now, much less flowering.  The work I am doing now revolves around design.  This means black lines on white paper.  Ideas. Representations of places.  All of this work is abstract.  I am not standing on a patch of dirt, with the sky overhead.  I am not digging holes.  I have not one patch of green, anywhere.

pink-alstromeria.jpgThis is as good a time as any to talk about flowers.  Did I evolve from a person to a person of gardening inclination from exposure to flowers?  It could be.  I am not a botanist, but my quick take is that flowers make the process of pollination and seeding a visually sexy affair.  Some flowers are irresistible to hummingbirds or bees, or moths.  That flowers might be attractive to me is not nature’s intent.  Some hybrid flowers are sterile.  Though they are beautiful beyond compare, there will be no babies.  Just me-I have been reduced to a baby state by the length and ferocious nature of this winter. I understand completely that plants do not flower to make my gardening life more beautiful.  But they do.   What they do for this garden starved person in February-enormous.

Hollywood rose 002There are many things about gardening that satisfy, beyond the flowers.  I am interested in outdoor spaces designed to embrace people.  I like grass to lay down on, after a long day.  I am awed by trees of age.  I am interested in texture, mass, motion, rhythm, line, color, and form-in the landscape.  There is a fondness and respect for every  green plant.  Is one better than another?  Not really.  I may like peonies better than delphiniums, but that is a matter of taste, not worth.

May 2 2013 (33)There are some years when the flowering trees enchant.  Last spring was the first spring in two seasons that this magnolia bloomed.  The previous year, every bud was frosted off by a long late spring cold snap.  I was so ready for those flowers to emerge.   Other years, I feel like flowers on trees look silly.  How could any tree as sculptural and majestic as a magnolia go the frivolous route of tarting themselves up with big blowsy pink flowers?  Are the big glossy leaves and pale gray bark not enough?  The magnolia stellata outside my window this morning is  making ready for spring.  How can I tell?  The snow this morning is accumulating on the enlarged buds.  The snowbuds tell me March is not so far away.

4284263358_538beec025White flowers are not tough to love.  They have a fresh and pristine look so unlike the dirt they came from.  The white of this double flowered hellebore is all the more striking, given the pale yellow stamens and green flares.  I like single flowered hellebores, but I would grow this double without hesitation. Why?  I like flowers.  Ugly flowers-could those two words ever be side by side?  The flowers of butterburrs, Dutchman’s pipe and American ginger are not exactly what I would call lovely, but they are flowers none the less.

July 28, 2011 028
Roses fall in and out of favor so fast a gardener can hardly keep up. They can be easy to dismiss, given their ungainly habit of growth, their affinity for disease and Japanese beetles.  Not to mention that they are so, well, girly.  This overblown pink Carefree Beauty flower is not to everyone’s taste.  I grow this rose in spite of all the work they require because I like the flowers.

Aug 25 2013 (4)There are lots of other roses I cannot grow, that are only available to me as cut flowers, grown by someone else.  My Carefree Beauty roses would never be available as a cut flower.  They last no longer than a day or two when cut.  The history of the romance of the rose aside, a flower which can last for a week or better in water is especially welcome in mid February.

Mother's Day 2012 011I like cut flowers in season. When the tulips are in bloom, arrangements with cut tulips have that extra from the garden cache.  But there are no flowers of any description in season in my February.  How great it is to have the opportunity to put vegetables and flowers in a grocery cart in February. Tulips, Dutch iris, delphinium and sweet peas in February?  Bring them on.  Buck brought me a dozen Confetti roses for Valentines.  As much as I love the yellow flowers whose petals are edged in orangy red, I am most fond of how willing they are to open wide and flat – this a memory of the roses in my garden.  They look so beautiful this morning.

valentineOf course everyone has their own idea of what tugs at their heart strings, come February 14.

 

 

Mighty White

birch.jpgMy landscape is mighty white right now.  We have already had better than twice the snow we had all season last year, and this is just mid January. I was so surprised that we got another 3 inches of snow yesterday.  Have we not had enough?  Who thought we needed more than the 16 inches we have already had? OK, I wasn’t so much surprised as weary.  The snow has piled up everywhere.  The landscape is blurred.  The glare from the snow makes everything else some variation of black..  Lots of white, with some black bits.  What gardener in my zone isn’t bleary eyed?

sun-and-snow.jpgThese reproduction cast stone pots made from a well known design by Frank Lloyd Wright are all but buried in snow.  The snow silhouette features the rim of the pot.  The shape of a mature plant, a garden bed, a tree canopy, a garden path, a terrace, a container – shape is one of many elements of design.  A shape is a 2-dimensional visual description of an object.  An outline, if you will.  Heavy snow makes it easy to see and decide if you like the shapes.

snow-covered-garden-table.jpgWe have mountains of snow and uniformly gray skies.  There are only so many ways to tell this story.  The better story is about what is missing visually, and how a landscape can be better. As I have watched the snow pile up higher and higher, I realize how much I appreciate the skillful use of color, line, texture, mass, edges, and proportion in a landscape design.  This garden table and bench has been reduced to its simplest shape, in black and white.

snow-covered.jpgDeep snow has all but obliterated any complex relationships in the landscape. What the snow has not buried are the basic and simple shapes.  The very strong and simple relationships.  A good design should be evident in every season.  In all kinds of weather. There are those gardeners who aim for one season at the expense of all the others, and I respect their choice.  It just wouldn’t be my choice.  I do believe that good design is all about what is there when there is nothing there to see.  The stone pot filled with cut evergreens pictured above has a distinct form and proportion that is described and enhanced by snow.

shop-garden-in-January.jpgThe heavy snow had reduced this landscape to its most elemental gestures.  What I still see, given the lack of color and texture, is the form. I would venture to say that a design that does not work in its most austere winter state will work no better flushed out with plants, and clothed in green.

snow.jpgGood form is a quintessentially important element of good design.  A weeping Japanese maple has an overall shape, both a leafy shape, and a twiggy shape.  That maple also has a three dimensional structure-that is its form.  The successful placement of that maple in the landscape is dependent upon an understanding of its form.  Planting small or young trees require an understanding of a form that is yet to be.  Forms come with baggage, too.  A weeping Japanese maple is so common in suburban front yard landscapes that it asks for an unusual treatment or placement for its form to be truly appreciated.  Asparagus means vegetable, which means it gets planted in the vegetable garden.  But its form may be perfect for a rose garden, or a container.

garden-bench.jpg The relationship of one form to another can be incredibly exciting, or sleepy beyond all belief.  Some forms are so striking they stay with me for a long time.  Years even.  The fluid and informally curving form of this magnolia garland is all the more striking visually against the formal and rigid form of this steel bench.  The snow is that relationship graphic and clear.  Personally unforgettable moments in a landscape usually involve a form which is under some sort of visual discussion via the weather, or the season. Landscape elements that are not up to a year round discussion should be placed accordingly.

boxwood.jpg  Some forms I do not give a moments notice.  Why wouldn’t my clients feel the same way? Whenever I am designing for a client, I always ask what was an unforgettable experience of the landscape. This will tell me a lot about what forms will have meaning for them.

snowy-day.jpgThis embarrassment of riches in snow is an experience of the landscape that is making me testy, but it has its virtues.

michigan-winter.jpgMilo thinks this winter’s garden is grand.