Spring | Deborah Silver & Co.

Bloomin’ Beautiful

My yellow magnolias are close to being in full bloom. Barring some disastrous overnight temperatures, they ought to be glorious in a few days. The weather we have had the past month has been so unusual; I keep thinking it is May, not mid April. In celebration of the mild spring, so many things are blooming all at once. Cherries, crabs, magnolia, PJM rhododendron, Bradford pears-there is quite the symphony going on. I know I am preaching to the choir to suggest there is no other time in a garden quite like spring, but I like encouraging people to look around them at a time when there is plenty to reward the seeing.

This crabapple is just coming into bloom-not so often do I see it flower in tandem with the forsythia. This is the weather jam at work. We are having much cooler temperatures at night now than we did some weeks ago. When spring is good, it is very very good; everything in flower is going into the cooler at night. This plays such a big role in a spring being of generous duration. I doubt I would put pink and yellow together like this; I would guess the township or county planted this traffic island a long time ago. But I am fine with rowdy and exuberant in the spring; this display seems entirely appropriate for the season.

There are lots of little spring things that warrant attention. This Matrix blue frost pansy mix is stellar. They look like each basic white flower has been individually dressed up in purple watercolor. It is a much more subtle look than a picotee, or variegated flower. I am convinced that the most valuable tool a gardener has at their disposal is the ability to envision. There are different kinds of seeing. Many things in my environment I see, but don’t see with understanding, appreciation, inspiration or thoughtfulness; this kind of seeing takes effort.

The surfaces of these two pots play off one another; the shiny glaze is in distinct contrast to the rough creamy clay. The yellows and limes seem all the more limey, given the purple pansies. Massing a dark color, and placing it in front of a light color greatly adds to its visual impact. The warm brown of the fountain is repeated in the centerpiece of the glazed pots. The flower colors pop all the more, being placed with a group of objects. No composition comes with a handbook. It is a matter of taking the time to see what is there to be seen.

These flamed tulips are hard to miss, but none the less I have watched them sprout, bud, bloom, and mature. The flowers opened a creamy yellow; it has taken a week or more for that cream base to go white. Anyone thinking of planting white tulips for a spring wedding reception needs to choose the variety carefully, and study the timing. I try to keep track of what blooms when for exactly this reason. Even so, spring weather can be so variable your best laid plans could make your tulips too early, or too late. The visual idea here-white enlivens and intensifies the appearance of other colors. If you plant tulips against a brick or stucco or stone surface, consider the color combination-it will be much more important than each color individually.

This planting in a old galvanized pan is one of Rob’s one act plays. The hyacinth bulbs are barely showing bud; he likes every stage of the development of a hyacinth bloom-not just the flower part. The alyssum in full bloom gives those green leaves visually contrasting company. Though the time will come that the hyacinths fade, its short life is still very sweet. I am always amused when a client tells me they will not plant whatever-say lilacs-as the blooming is short. Most things in nature are a one act play of one sort or another. The blooming of the maples-almost over for this year.

My hellebores are long lived, and have only gotten better with time. Their flowers emerge, mature and fade over many weeks; each stage has its charms. At this stage, exquisite.

These aging clumps of Helleborus “Ivory Prince” I would not describe as exquisite-they are interesting in a moody , fugue-like way. I like them at this very mature stage just as much as I like them young.

It would be easy to walk by this hellebore stage act without truly seeing it. As I am very busy with work this time of year, it is even easier to skip the seeing. But I am indeed all the poorer when I miss what is going on right in front of me.

Bloomin’ beautiful.

And more bloomin’ beautiful.

Posted on: April 21, 2010 4 Comments

Filed Under: Garden Design, Spring Tagged With: spring blooming trees, spring blooming flowers

Flowering Trees

All trees flower; the spent chartreuse blooms from the Norway maples in my neighborhood have begun to blanket the streets like an algal bloom on a pond. I do so appreciate that vibrant spring green; I feel deserving of it, after my winter. Green flowers seem appropriately dignified, for a tree. But those early and girly pink flowering trees-do we love them? This old weeping cherry-is it beautiful, or is that candy pink ballerina’s tutu too too much?

I am very fond of all the magnolias that manage to survive in my zone. The saucer magnolia has opulently scaled pale pink blooms. They flop open in a decadent and provocative manner. The slightest frost stains the pale flowers with rust; the slightest heat finishes the flowers off in moments. The ground beneath them will be littered with decaying petals-no other tree makes such an ostentatious display in bloom. It is the Sarah Bernhardt of flowering trees; do I like this? Whether I do, or not, I like seeing this play, every year.

These weeping willows are astonishly dramatic, at the blooming and leafing out stage. This grove is dripping yellow green spring. No small part of how beautiful they look is the large space that was given over to allowing them to be what nature intended. Willows are perfectly splendid in the spring.

This old crabapple ignites, and lights up the sky behind my neighbor’s garage; it is in full bud right now, ready to burst forth on the scene from my terrace. I do not even see this tree the entire rest of the year. The next 10 days, it turns the air pink. Do I like this? Would I have this? Am I happy to have it right now-yes.

Across the street is an old top grafted cherry. The trunk bark is split open like a weak seam on a tight shirt-who knows whether lightning, scald, or other damage created such a giant wound. But the tree has put on its frothy petticoat every year I have lived here, despite the fact it gets no care of any kind. Some days I marvel at the contrast of its dainty blooms, and its scarred trunk-other days I cannot bear to look. Are grafted, weeping and blooming trees an alien nation- born of man’s misguided meddling with nature? No matter my answer to this question, would I have inherited this tree, I would care for it, and treasure its persistence.

My big Norway is in its glory right this moment-chartreuse and blue never looked so good. This stage will be gone, before I have had my visual fill. Some trees are architectural; their branch structure, or bark, or shape, or leaf forms reward the eye of a gardener. The giant shade trees- their massive dignity have graced streets all across this country. They are able to put a protective roof over a garden in such a graceful way you might not even notice. The ornamental trees-those smaller trees with odd forms, or showy blooms-they have their day, and their place. Should you be thinking about trees, try to figure out what you like; I hope you have more success than I.

Who are the ornamental trees? If you like subtly natural, look at the amelanchiers (serviceberries, or shadblow), cornelian cherry, witch hazel, and its relative, parrotia. If you like the showgirls, go for pink cherries, crabs, and magnolias. Magnolia Jane is small growing and very floriferous. If you blush at that pink, try the Venus dogwoods, snowdrift crabs, apple trees, the magnolias stellata, or the yellow magnolias-Yellow Butterflies, or Elizabeth. Should you live in my zone, visit a nursery right now, and review your choices. Be seduced-this is what spring is all about.

My ornamental tree review, The Galaxy Magnolia Girls, are putting on their show nightly, as long as the cool temperatures last. I do not plan to miss a single performance.

Posted on: April 18, 2010 5 Comments

Filed Under: Spring, Woody Plants, Landscape Design Tagged With: ornamental trees, spring flowering trees

More On Pruning

This hedge has everything going wrong. More than likely, it gets topped every year with an electric hedge clipper. The work goes fast, and the result makes me cringe. Repeated cuts into the top layer has resulted in so many branch breaks that the resulting dense top layer of foliage forms an impenatrable barrier to light to the interior of the shrub. This hedge is mostly sticks, all year round. Pruning branches individually takes a lot more time, but the time it takes is worth it. Sometimes I describe pruning as a haircut-specifically, a shag haircut. The branches on top are short and shaggy; the upper side branches are headed back slightly to allow light to get all the way to the bottom.

The early season look of this hedge is ample evidence that skirting up a shrub is a bad idea. In an effort to keep the sides of the shrub perfectly vertical, all those stray side branches have been pruned off. Not so clear from this picture is that the hedge had been planted so close to the driveway that any side branches would impinge on that hard surface. This hedge in its natural state would be 4 times as wide, and beautiful. A skirted shrub is all legs, with little tufts of green on the top. Naturally, carefully consider placement before you plant.

This lilac hedge is wedged between two driveways. There really isn’t room between the drives for any plant that I know of, even though the screen is welcome to both neighboring parties. To make the best of a bad situation, regularly removing the largest stem to the ground every year will encourage the lilac to sprout from the ground level. This keeps the green coming from below. This hedge has a decidedly layered look. A lower layer of green, then a taller layer of sticks, then another layer of green. This striping is very evident in early spring. Its clear these lilaces were pruned across the top, all the same height, on repeated occasions. Pruning branches irregularly, at all different heights, encourages green all over. Only a few plants can be pruned into boxes and globes, or balloons. Balloon bushes are those skirted up stick shrubs with balls of green at the top; they look like a hot air balloon, only not as pretty. This is a particularly displeasing look, as it bears no remote resemblance to any plant’s real habit of growth.

These hydrangeas have been pruned back to a few main trunks. Though the look is sparse, there is little to fear. Limelights bloom on new wood. They do not bloom until July in my zone. There is plenty of time for this shrub to grow and put out flowers. Cutting back to these main trunks in the spring keeps the shrb in scale with the allocated space in a natural way. Letting pruning go for too long only makes your shrub renovation look even more extreme.

Hydrangeas grow fast. This bleak look lasts for only a short time in the spring.

I prune my own hydrangeas to a roughly symmetrical height, first. Mine are grown in blocks, not rows; they make a substantial mass when they bloom. They are also tucked behind a Hicks yew hedge; I need every inch of height I can get out of my hydrangeas so I can see their flowers from the street. Pruning should be done with a particular end result in mind. I do not prune my hydrangeas any lower than 30″ overall, as I like their height.

Once I have pruned down to the height I like, I then prune out crossing branches. I may prune out the center of the shrub if I think it has gotten too dense. I leave the outside branches alone. There might be some vague resemblance to an egg laid on its side, with holes in the top-when I am done pruning.

It is easy to see that this single old calloused cut from last spring resulted in three new branches. Pruning is not the end of something-it is the start of something bigger. These three branches from last year, located in the center of the shrub, I have pruned back hard. I like to avoid long runs of woody branches-as I do not like hydrangea plants that droop. A sturdily branched undercarriage makes for a strong and weather tolerant shrub.

This bed of hydrangeas belongs to a client. They face down an old stone wall which is but four feet tall. She cuts them back very hard-to within 14 inches of the ground. She has in mind to keep the flowers at about the same height as the wall. Pruning hard keeps the eventual plant height in bounds.

In bounds, but blooming beautifully; this I like.