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What is not to love about a hellebore?  Just one thing.  They are so slow to get going and get gorgeous-more on this part later.  Everything about their habit and flowers is stellar. The thick leatherly leaves are beautiful all season long.  The flowers are astonishingly beautiful.  I rather think they are the the Ferrari of perennial plants.  They deliver beauty in a visually very powerful way.  They have a capacity for high rpms that leave other perennials in their dust-even though they are quite small when mature.  One could easily imagine fields of them.  Another bonus?  The sepals hold for for a very long time after the flowering has finished-as pictured above.  This gives the impression of a very long period of bloom.  The last of the best?  They are quite willing to set seed.

 Were I but one or two zones warmer, I would grow them all.  Hellebore species are divided by those that are caulescent (meaning they have leaves on their flowering stems) and acaulescent.  Acaulescent hellebores-such as Helleborus Niger, and Helleborus Orientalis, send up flowers stalks before they get around to the business of throwing leaves.  I tried for years to cultivate the caulescent hellelorus argutifolius-unsuccessfully.  The leafy stalks armed with flowers were invariably done in by my winter.  I yanked the entire lot of them, after 7 years.  Their leaves would be so ravaged by the winter that I could barely enjoy the flowers.  How upset I was that they did not grow for me was ridiculous-I wanted them that bad.  Helleborus foetidus and Helleborus lividus-not in the stars.

My current collection-all acaulescent varieties. I have grown up about which hellebores make sense for me.  No matter how badly you want them, they have to like you.  Of course I think any plant that I have a great love for would return that sentiment, and grow for me.  Not so.  So not so.

 I have some Heritage hybrids-from the heritage series-bred from helleborus orientalis.   Some are virtually black-others are white, with spots.  I have pink, mauve, green-and every combination thereof.  I have white and green baby orientalis hellebore hybrids from Knot Hill farms.  The baby part is discouraging; they do take years to make good sized clumps. 

I do so hope that by time I am 80, I will have strongly representing stands of hellebores.  They will do more for my heart than any medicine. If I were you, I would plant 10 of them today.

The hybrid hellebore Ivory Prince is an exception to the pokey rule.  It is a strong and fast grower.  This particular cultivar is an upstart you might want to consider for your garden.  The color-hellebore moody.  Green, cream, and a hint of brownish pink.  The habit-garden worthy.  One of its best attributes-the flowers look up at you.  This part I really appreciate. 

I have flowers not yet in bloom-this should give you an idea of late the spring is.  I like that one of my favorite plants is also one of the first to appear.  They fly that flag that makes me want to get going in the garden.
Very lovely, aren’t they?

I have been talking of late to my friend Michael K on the subject of romance-as a world view.  For me, that means a world garden view.  The most romantic gardener of my vintage would be Henry Mitchell.  He planted untold numbers of bearded irises on his small property.  All of the work that their successful cultivation takes he provided,  for that brief week or two of glory.  Only a romantic would devote so much time to a plant whose bloom time is so ephemeral.  Bearded irises out of bloom, or in need of division, or suffering from botrytis-not so pretty.  In bloom-who does not love them?   He spoke of the summer storms that inevitably knock over the the delphiniums in full bloom and shatter all the peony blooms, but he spoke even more about how those gardeners that grow them pick up and go on past any trouble in the sure belief that life without them would be a desert. The gardener that throws him or her self at their garden like they have 10 minutes to live-they are romantics.  The gardener who trims their boxwood with hand shears as they love the sound it makes is a head over heels gardener.  Romantic gardeners love a rainy day as much as a sunny one.  Gardeners who opt for gravel in the drive put up with the maintenance, as they cannot live without that crunching sound underfoot.  They never ask for a perennial, shrub or tree that blooms all summer, and is maintenance free.  The work of a landscape and garden is a life, not a job.  They treasure that most ephemeral element in a landscape-a perfect moment.  I have only had a few-but I live every day for the next one.  Rob could not have been more pleased to have sheep’s hurdles arrive in the container. I know of no one who takes sheep to market, and needs a temporary pen for them.   But I do know lots of gardeners who will fall for their history and sturdy construction.  Some romantic gardener will imagine a use, and make a home for them.  The hope of a supremely and sublimely beautiful garden-a very romantic idea that I cannot shake.   Rob’s romance with the sheep’s hurdles-I greatly respect that.        

Everything living and growing on God’s earth has a lifespan.  A moment, a season.  Some moments take but the blink of an eye.  That would be my crocus this year.  They came on, shone for the better part of two days, and vanished.  My Kent Beauty showy oregano-one summer season, and one summer season only-would I do without them?  No.  My maple, the biggest tree on my property, I estimate to be about 75 years old.  My yews and arborvitae are 25 years old.  My Limelight hydrangeas are 8 years old; I feel like I have had my butterburrs my whole life, though I have really only had them 10 years.  My garden in its present form I have had 16 years.  This is a very short time, in the big scheme of things.  But this is what I have.  Some lifespans are bigger than others.  Ancient yews in England, the sequoia trees in California, they are ancient and still vigorous.  Grapevines in France 200 years old still produce grapes for wine.  There are many examples of great age.  But eventually any living thing will succumb.   Not that I need remind you, but no living thing lives forever. 

What does the inevitability of a lifespan have to do with romance?  I find people with a romantic world view are intensely sensitive to the present moment.  One beautiful flower opening, a certain foggy morning defined by a flock of geese flying overhead and honking, that day the double bloodroot blooms, a harvest moon high in the sky-the romantic gardeners among us greatly value the beauty of the moment, and great hope for the future.  There is not a cynic among them.  Part of this is fueled, energized by the knowledge that our time is limited.  How do we choose to live it? 

We pour over the seed catalogues.  We grow seedlings under lights in the basement.  We search the soil surface for signs of life once the snow melts away.  We plan the next phase.  We celebrate every spring in much the same way-the best is yet to come. 

I would invite you to let your romance for a garden guide you.  Get going.  You do not have forever-you have now.

Jenny D works for me in the shop-this description by no means does her proper justice.  She is an incredible talented graphic designer, friend, and delightfully free spirit.  What do I mean by this?  She showed up an hour early for work this morning-the fifteenth anniversary morning-with silver helium balloons-depicting a one, and a five.  She was shocked that I was already at work at 8am; she routinely comes in at nine. Her plan was to tie those celebratory 15th celebration balloons to the window boxes outside my office before I got to work.  Get up a little earlier, Jenny; I am at work never any later than 7am.  A phone call to her husband Mark resulted in this advice-sneak up.  I would have known in any event that it was Jenny behind those balloons-who is she kidding?  I would have spotted her work in a second-I have come to know her.  The best of the fifteenth anniversary day today-her flaming hats.    

Rob and I may have worked hard, and worked even better than hard.  But how Jenny chose to acknowledge that-she is a very talented person who it is my privilege to know.  In my opinion, great companies are all about the great people who inhabit them.  She had the idea to construct a pair of flaming hats.  Jenny-you are too much.    

Much preliminary discussion went to the fire issue-would the hats precipitate a fire?  Rob and I both stood firm.  In respect for that person who conceived and engineered a fifteenth anniversary flaming hat-we would go along with her. 

We lit up-Jenny had to have taken better than 70 photographs of this event-the 15th sparklers representing.  A hat with integral sparklers-have you ever?  But truly, the event was about her.  She created this moment.

Jenny made the both of us laugh-she made a special day more than very special.

The 2011 celebration of the anniversary of the shop was organized spectacularly by Jenny.  When I got to work this morning, I had pink tulips and pink hyacinths in a vase. A great bottle of Italian desert wine, almond cookies, and a box of peanut brittle.  I knew it was from Rob-no one else knows me this well.  Jenny’s balloons came later, champagne from Monica, and birthday shortbread cookies from Pam.  It was a special day that turned out to be a delightful day.  
Thank you so much,  Jenny.