SIGNS OF CHANGE

            The temperature this morning dipped below 20°F for the first time, blowing a hole right through our heretofore Zone 9 winter and sinking us to Zone 8b. I do have to say, we haven’t felt much like Zone 9 since December anyway.



 

Tim and I actually got outside for a few billable hours at the end of last week. After eleven consecutive days of weather-enforced sitting around the kitchen/office—staring at the computer screen, completing too many Sudokus, crawling into bed late, dragging ourselves out of bed late, watching too many BBC cosy DVDs—an afternoon spent pruning and weeding felt like a commuted sentence (as opposed to a convoluted sentence, of which the foregoing is a prime example).



Oak Island's lowest
temp of the winter
of 2010-2011

             Although no one is trumpeting the arrival of spring in these parts—get real, it’s still January—subtle signs of seasonal change are out there if you pay attention.

            Days are getting longer. As of this posting, we have 19 minutes more daylight than in late December. More importantly, the sun comes up two minutes earlier than it did a week ago, and the pace accelerates from now on. It’s a miniscule change, but fraught with significance. Plants feel it, too.

            The constellation Orion has transited from the east (rising) to directly overhead (apogee) to the west (setting) when I go out for bedtime weather observations. (An astronomical aside: Along with Cassiopeia, the Pleiades and the Dippers, Orion is the only constellation I can reliably identify with any degree of certitude. Sometimes I think I know Leo—the bright red star Regulus marks his heart—and the teapot shape of Sagittarius. Sometimes I don’t. And, whenever I’m in the Southern Hemisphere, the Southern Cross is a no-brainer. I’ve always meant to devote more time to studying the visible stars: the problem is, you have to go out at night to do it. And then, there’s all that neck-craning. Wouldn’t it be useful if someone would just draw the lines and limn the faces?)



 



‘Tête-à-Tête’ daffs
are coming

             Tips of the ‘Tête-à-Tête’ daffodils that live near our front door have poked their hard green noses out of the mulch. In other yards, other daffs are stirring. Fine-bladed foliage of starflower (Ipheion uniflorum) and Crocus tommasinianus makes the front bed along the sidewalk look like it needs weeding. Tim spotted what we think might be a redbud (Cercis canadensis) flaunting a set of red buds (duh) at the tip of a branch. Bradford pear buds are swelling. We have buds, or maybe they’re flowers, on our Edgeworthia chysantha (paperbush), but I can never tell what’s up with them. They always look slightly embarrassed and mildewy to me.

            The very earth, when you get your nose near it, smells expectant. The angle of the sun is higher. Everything outside feels itself on the verge of something wonderful.

            Yesterday morning, my eponymous follower, Cathy Fitzgerald, sent me the new post from her site, EcoArtNews. I scrolled back through some of her earlier pages and stumbled on a charming video snippet of Wangari Maathai telling her hummingbird story. For those of you who have never heard of her, Ms. Maathai is the founder of the Green Belt Movement, a program aimed at combating deforestation, desertification, rural hunger and water crises in Africa through the empowerment of women. She persevered despite political persecution and personal setbacks to win the Nobel Peace Prize in 2004. It’s nice to know that occasionally the recipient has actually done something to deserve it.

            I’ve included a link to the hummingbird story. In keeping with my theme of little changes, we can all choose to be hummingbirds.

          
               Today’s is a short post. On Tuesday, Tim and I are off to the Really Big City—Raleigh—where I have arranged an interview with the director of the Plant Disease and Insect Clinic (PDIC) at North Carolina State University and a tour of the lab for an article about the PDIC’s services (that will appear in the June issue of Carolina Gardener magazine). As part of their land-grant-college mandate, the Clinic will identify your bug or disease—free for pictures, but they have to charge for mailed-in samples—and suggest environmentally responsible control measures. I used the service for the first time last summer for an invasion of baby army worms on my wax beans… except I didn’t know they were army worms until the entomologist-on-call got back to me via email with 24 hours. 





Norman Rockwell's
"Triple Self-Portarait"



This is our first road trip in a while. We plan to take in the Norman Rockwell exhibit at the NC Museum of Art, and expect to come home feeling all gooey about our 1950s childhoods. But I need the rest of today and tomorrow to prepare (for the interview, not Norman), so I won’t come off as a total blithering idiot. I’ve been out of Academe so long, I sometimes forget to not be intimidated by it.

Can’t believe it’s almost time for the January Wrap-up. Where does the time go?

By the way, Tim added two easy ways to subscribe to this blog, by a search-engine reader and by email. The simple-to-click options are on the sidebar at the top of the post, above the profile.

Thanks for dropping by. Y’all stay warm.

                                                                                Kathy

PUSHING POTS

     For Fitzgeralds Gardening, November is when container change-outs for winter swing into high gear. Tim and I refill between 60 and 70 pots and windowboxes for about ten clients, and another seven to ten at our own house. Since practice makes perfect, we’ve gotten quite good at it over the years. Want to know some of our secrets?

     Well, you could check out Carolina Gardener’s November/December issue, where the lead article (that I wrote) covers the subject as thoroughly as possible in 800 words. Because my first attempt at adding links went so well, I’ve added one for Carolina Gardener. Hard copies may be found at independent booksellers in North and South Carolina, Virginia and Georgia, and at garden centers in those areas.

     OR, you could keep reading here, where I recapitulate and enlarge upon the subject.

First Things First

      As is usual in the gardening world, a few details need to be sorted before we get to plant choices.

  

     When deciding where to place winter containers, consider things like sun, wind, and water. Potted plants’ roots lack the protection being in the ground provides, so they suffer more from temperature extremes, desiccating winds, and dry soil. Brick and stone walls (especially light-colored ones) that face west or south retain more of the heat of the day than dark-colored vinyl, wood and hardy-plank. Know what direction the prevailing wind comes from, how it crosses your property, and what obstacles—trees, hedges, other structures—affect it. Make sure the pots have water, although not as much as during the summer. Are they likely to benefit from rainfall? It’s best to test the dirt with your finger for moisture: just like indoor houseplants, many outdoor cold-weather containers drown. (Trust me on this: I’m an expert at killing houseplants.)

     Next, choose your container well. In general, anything that drains readily and can stand up to your weather works fine. Be aware that plastic and unglazed terra cotta pots may crack and flake. Glazed ceramic, fiberglass, and cocomat-lined wrought iron hayracks and baskets fare better.

     Here in the mild-wintered Southeast, if you want to use clay pots outside during the winter, keep the following considerations in mind.

• Glazed ceramics hold up better than unglazed terra-cotta. Why? Pots crack because of freeze-thaw cycles: glazes keep moisture from permeating the clay, making it less susceptible to expansions and contractions.
• Not all pottery is created equal. Italian, Portuguese, Vietnamese and Malaysian clays form strong molecular bonds that fire smooth. On the other hand, Mexican clay has proportionately more sand, resulting in finished pieces with that lovely grainy texture. This is not a problem in Mexico or the dry American Southwest, but for the rest of us, winter can cause Mexican pots to crumble.

     One last thing: the primary secret to drop-dead-gorgeous pots at any season is to cram the plants in. While exact numbers depend on individual plants’ shoot and root vigor, plan for:

·         15 3- to 4-inch pots, or 5 six-packs per 14" diameter pot;

·         18 3- to 4-inch pots, or 6 six-packs per 16" diameter pot;

·         18 3- to 4-inch pots, or 6 six-packs per 30" long by 6" wide hayrack;

·         21 3- to 4-inch pots, or 7 six-packs per 36" long and 6" wide hayrack;

·         24 3- to 4-inch pots, or 8 six-packs per 42" long and 6" wide hayrack.
 

Mixed violas and
'Snow Princess' alyssum spill
out of a 36" hayrack


 A one-gallon pot equals 4 3- to 4-inch pots, or 1½ six-packs, by the way.

Annuals are very forgiving of crowding, since their only reason for being is to set seed for next year. Perennials require more root-room, especially if you plan to put them in the ground after their stint in a container.  

Freeze-hardy Flowers

      Now we can talk plants. Pansies and their relatives (Viola x wittrockiana) serve as anchors for many cold-weather containers in mild-winter areas. The small-flowered violas like the Penny, Sorbet and Endurio series and the cheerful Johnny-jump-ups (V. tricolor) bloom more profusely than their larger and blowsier cousins, the pansies. As an added bonus, violas never require deadheading. Unfortunately, all members of the viola family are deer candy.

     Other cold-hardy (to about 20°F) reliables include:

'Endurio Violet' &  'Penny Orange' violas
and 'Easter Basket' alyssum
looked so good all season
the neighbor asked if they were fake

•  Alyssum (Lobularia maritima)—alas, the floriferous new hybrid ‘Snow Princess’ crashed here after several nights at or near 20°F. It survived a shearing to rebloom when the temperatures moderate;
• Snapdragons (Antirrhinum majus)—although blooming stops after the first hard frost, they bracket the season with carnival colors and provide height and a green backdrop for violas;
• Perennial pinks (Dianthus barbatus) flaunt their red, pink, white and bicolor blooms through all but the coldest months. 

As it happens, not that many flowering plants fill the bill for winter containers, but don’t give up yet—we’ve just scratched the surface of possibilities.

Don’t Forget Foliage

     Incorporating evergreen plants with interesting or colorful foliage makes up for gaps in flowering. You might want to try:

·        Ornamental cabbages, kales and chards (Brassica spp. cvv.)—winter foliage stalwarts;

·        Low-growing bugleweed (Ajuga reptans cvv.) forms dense mats in variegated, chocolate, or purple-ish shades, like ‘Caitlin’s Giant’ and ‘Burgundy Glow’;

·        Trailing green-and-silver dead-nettle (Lamium maculatum cvv.) produces pink, white or purple flowers in late winter;

·        Curly-leaved parsley (Petroselinum crispum) adds bright green—and edible!—accents;

·        Dainty variegated lemon or silver thyme (Thymus x citriodorus) and mother-of–thyme (T. vulgaris) provide fine-textured underplantings for upright plants;

·        Dense plantings of dark green or variegated English ivies (Hedera helix) replace those crunchy Boston ferns hanging on your porch;

·        Small ornamental grasses—golden sweet flag (Acorus gramineus ‘Ogon’), thin-bladed sedges (Carex buchananii, C. comans ‘Frosted Curls,’ C. flagellifera ‘Toffee Twist’), breeze grass (Lomandra longifolia), and rushes (Juncus effusus ‘Wild Rumpus’ or ‘Will Fleming’— provide strong verticals; 

·         Hens-and-chicks (Sempervivum tectorum) cultivars come in a range of tints, all cold-hardy to Zone 3, which includes northern Minnesota and all of Maine.

Except for the brassicas, none of these selections ranks high on Bambi’s forage list.

Super Shrubs

      One- and three-gallon upright shrubs make strong design anchors, either alone or with other plants. Broadleaf choices include camellia (C. japonica, C. sasanqua), dwarf nandinas (N. domestica ‘Firepower’ or ‘Moonbay’), boxwood (Buxus sempervirens or B. microphylla var. koreana) and little-leaved hollies (Ilex crenata ‘Soft Touch,’ Ilex vomitoria ‘Bordeaux’ or ‘Schillings Dwarf’). Conifers like dwarf Alberta or Colorado blue spruce (Picea glauca var. albertiana, P. pungens f. glauca), juniper (Juniperus spp.), arborvitae (Thuja occidentalis) or false cypress (Chamaecyparis spp.) work well as container focal points. Combining several different small conifers in one container makes an attractive and deer-resistant dish garden.

Harbingers of Spring

     Layering small bulbs into winter containers gives a late-winter color burst that also heralds spring. Tuck in 20 to 30 early small daffodils (Narcissus obvallaris, ‘Quail,’ ‘Tête-à-Tête,’ ‘Canaliculatus’); crocuses (C. tommasinianus are least attractive to squirrels); snowdrops (Galanthus elwesii, G. nivalis); and/or crested iris (Iris cristata). Where winters are colder than the coast’s, add squill (Scilla sibirica) and grape hyacinth (Muscari spp.) to the list.          



The plantless holiday planter



It Doesn’t Have to Be a Plant 

  
       But who ever said you have to use plants? Decorate your containers for the holidays with big red bows, clusters of ornaments and garland, but don’t let your imagination stop there. Pine cones, either spray-painted or au naturel, look great all winter erupting out of a pot. Fill windowboxes with Christmas-tree balls of every color and size to carry through to spring (look for ornaments labeled for outdoor use: the colors on the indoor ones chip off after a couple of months). Dried ornamental grass plumes, corkscrew willow twigs, or sprays of berries—real or artificial—bound into sheaves with bright ribbons add height and drama.

           

Sometimes a Pot Is Just a Pot

     To me, one of the most striking aspect of winter is its unclutteredness. In the same way we find beauty in leafless tree limbs, pretty pots standing empty gracefully echo winter’s simplicity.

A winter container vignette



     Thanks for dropping in. Keep warm.

                                                                            Kathy 



 P.S.--If you're reading this from New Zealand, would you log a comment to tell me where you're from? I seriously considered emigrating years ago, but was already over 40, and 'way too poor, worse luck. But I loved your country, particularly Ahipara and Te Anau, Dunedin and that mountain on the west coast of the North Island whose name escapes me at the moment.