How Much Longer Until We Get There?
A Harbinger Of Spring
The most amusing event of my week? Bunches of pussy willows, fully decked out in their silvery fur, arriving via UPS. Maybe it doesn’t take so much to amuse me, but was there not a time when every yard had a gangly overgrown and not so gorgeous salix whose main claim to fame was how they woke up and got going in March-the early fur bird of the garden? Just about to burst, we all cut branches and brought them inside, as it was still way too cold to stand outside and appreciate this modest but sure sign of spring. Pussy willow delivered to my door-what has the world come to?
Like its shrubby partner in crime, forsythia, early counts for a lot in my zone. Some gardeners with foresight may have galanthus or eranthis popping out of the ground. Or a hamamelis in bloom. Other warm and urban southern facing walls may be softened by daffoldil leaves springing forth, announcing the imminent change of the season. But pussy willow holding forth is a sure harbinger of spring. Do you think you would still love pussy willow branches if they came on in June or July? Sure this is a rhetorical question; timing is everything, yes? In a past life when I had five acres of land, only two of which were even remotely civilized, I could wade in those wild places and be sure to find pussy willow, forsythia, and rosa multiflora making moves in March. I could see the sap was rising in the willows; the branches are waking up. The color was distinctly different-luminous, and alive.
The poplars, whose rustling leaves stage a concert most every summer day, are all branches and trunks in March. But there will come a time when that grey bark is suffused with with a green welling up from underneath. There are no stands of popples where I live now. Should I decide to plant a meadow of popples, pussy willow, forsythia, wild roses, bergamot, buffalo grass, centaurea, and willow in the right of way on my urban corner lot, I most likely would be facing some highly irate neighbors.
Not everyone shares my idea of beautiful. Why should they? So I’ll keep the lawn in the tree row, for now. I have another source of spring from which to draw. My twigman has made a life of growing specific cultivars whose twigs make the faces of gardeners light up. This salix, which he calls prairie willow, I have never seen before. When I unwrap his long sturdy stems, I am delighted, relieved, beyond all belief. His pussy willow branches are studded with furry buds, one right after another.
Do I long for my wild pussy willows-not really. I never pruned them properly. The stems had missing teeth-inevitably. They grew at angles impossible to right. Though I have no end of nostalgia for what enchanted me 30 years ago, I am perfectly happy what came my way today. Living and breathing-spring is on its way.
The first harbingers of spring in Michigan-they have a big job. We gardeners are starved for sun, life, movement. We are most interested in winter loosening its grip. There are signs from nature that will help that big ache you have. Mine came in the mail today.
Breaking Dormancy
Though the shop garden is very much frozen in time, there is work under way, under ground, in anticipation of spring. We planted 2600 tulips in this garden last fall. Each and every one of those bulbs is programmed to wake up and grow, come the spring thaw. Everything needed to grow and bloom is stored and waiting inside that bulb for that moment when the switch flips. Though it seems hard to believe, tulip bulbs do not freeze solid through and through. Planted some 8″ below the surface, they spend the winter chilled to right around 32 degrees. They need that hibernation time to properly spring forth.
Inside the shop, it takes plenty to get ready for spring. We do a spring cleaning in February; once spring actually comes, there is no time for that. I do not mind that I have missed this part at all. Steve took every book off the library shelves, dusted them, cleaned the entire space, repainted the room, and put it all back together-all I had to do was choose the colors. Green for the walls of course-but a very light green this time. The room looks light and airy now. For the shelves and trim-what I call Belgian chocolate.
The floor of my office is courtesy of Flor-the company that makes carpet tiles in all kinds of colors and textures. This series is called house pet-it is so easy to pull up a stained square, and replace it with a new one. Gardening being the dirty business that it is, I think I am due for all new squares. Having a project indoors helps the winter fly by.
We repainted most of the shop as well. The room with the greenhouse roof got its first redo in 14 years. As I had originally faux-finished it with mossy water stains and dirt marks, it never did look its age. I repainted the walls a medium stone brown; the greenhouse ceiling is darker yet. The limestone colored shelves stuck out like a sore thumb, until they were covered with things.
The auricula theatres got new outfits as well. The best fun was finishing the terra cotta pots. Each pot was primed in UGL basement waterproofing paint. This gave the pots a substantial gritty texture. This also keeps the top coat of paint from peeling off, once the pot is a home for wet soil. Each pot got a jute knot or bow. With the finish coat of ivory paint we soaked the bows in thinned paint; I like the look. I could see these pots planted with small growing herbs-or succulents-or even miniature ferns.
They layout table was handy for painting the pots. I could never again do without a table at a height comfortable for me to stand and work. This we made with a 4 by 8 foot sheet of exterior grade plywood. The top is held up by a pair of shelves four feet deep. These shelves hold long blueprints that I need to store.
The little pots look great. Machine made terra cotta pots can be finished in so many ways, when you tire of that orange clay. This shape is called a rose pot-they are taller than standard terra cotta pots. They are great for growing plants with long root runs. Bareroot roses that are potted up for sale at nurseries are generally on the tall side. Large rose pots are also great for growing tomatoes. Rose pot and long tom are interchangeable common names for pots taller than they are wide.
One of the plant theatres got a coat of Belgian chocolate paint.
Pam has been making small topiary sculptures from preserved eucalyptus and other preserved greens. The trunks are made from cedar whips, kiwi vine, and fresh blacktwig dogwood. They are great for spots indoors asking for something soft, that will not support plant life. As I have no interest in house plants, these suit me fine.
The newly painted rooms are ready for the arrival of our spring collection. When gardeners break their dormancy has nothing to do with the weather or temperature. One day it is winter, and the next, gardening people are out prowling around, wanting some sign that spring is not far behind. We’ll be ready, come March 1.
Time For Tulips
I am embarassed to admit I did not take the time to plant a single tulip last fall-how lame. But I had the entire spring season to regret that decision at my leisure. They smell divine; the colors are not only luscious, they are so welcome after our long grey winter. They are swell as cut flowers. So what was my problem? It is easy to let the spring bulb planting slide, especially if the fall weather is nasty. I am not particularly fond of gardening in freezing weather, beyond digging myself a shelter in the compost pile, and settling in there for a hot lunch and warm apple pie with coffee. Planting bulbs is not especially satifying. You repeat the work of little holes six to eight inches deep times the numbers of bulbs you have; all the while your hands, nose and feet are going numb from the cold . When you have finished, you have nothing to show for your work-just the same dirt surface that was there before you started.
They say delayed gratification is the most adult of all pleasures, so maybe I was being childish about the long hiatus between the planting and the blooming. But when spring finally comes, tulips deliver. It is no small miracle that those small white bulbs with their papery brown covers become a plant that can reach thirty inches tall or better, with strikingly large flowers. Even people whose vocabulary does not include the word “garden”, know the word tulip.
As is my habit, I welcome the one odd plant out in any mass planting. This ocean of Mrs. John Sheepers is all the better looking for it. The blooming of the tulips is one of those garden moments to be treasured. I certainly was not thinking about how cold it was the day I planted , on this spring day. My tulips shake off any late frost; most of any damage is to the leaves that appear early. They are remarkably resilient to rain and wind.
Despite some literature to the contrary, I would not describe a tulip as a perennial. Once they flower, the top size bulb breaks down into smaller bulbs and bulbils. As flower size is directly related to the size of the bulb, a smaller bulb, or collection of will produce smaller flowers, or possibly, no flowers at all. In Holland, once the tulips have bloomed, the bulbs are dug up, sorted as to size and replanted for growing them back to top size. I do not want to dig tulips, separate the bulbs and replant; the Dutch do a much better job of this than I could. This is a long way of saying that I treat my tulips as annuals. When they are done flowering, I dig them and give them away, or compost them.
Daffodils are a much better choice of a spring flowering bulb, should you have a requirement that your bulbs rebloom reliably. But they are not tulips. Treating the tulips as annuals permits me to plant them in places where I will later plant summer annuals. As I do not discriminate against summer flowering plants that are only able to grace my garden for one year, so why not have tulips?
More often than planting in the ground, I do manage to plant tulips in containers which I winter in the garage, or under a thick coating of compost outdoors. I may plant boxes or baskets or galvanized buckets-whatever seems handy. I also may companion plant; the basket of red tulips pictured above was planted in tandem with the giant frittilaria imperialis. The frits were done blooming, but their curly foliage was attractive with the tulips.
Tulips in containers have the added advantage of mobility. They can be moved to a good spot in a spring garden, or placed on a table, or delivered to a friend who is ill. It also enables me to plant standing up, in the shelter of my garage.
I did plant tulips yesterday-1800 in all. I did a mix of World Expression, Avignon, Maureen and Cum Laude. Should you be interested in checking out my choices, or planting some tulips of your own, I highly recommend Sheepers. www.johnsheepers.com They have a great website, with pictures that will make your mouth water. It is not too late for you to have tulips in the spring.