If you learn how to read the looks of things in nature you can figure out just when it’s the right time to do just about anything in the garden. — You can be your very own farmer’s almanac! I have no good memory for this stuff - I know that when birds are on the wing, it’s time to do something… And I remembered something about oak leaves being as big as mouse ears - but Gail had to remind me that that’s the rule for when it’s safe to plant the tender annuals. We did get our lettuce in right on time today - as it happens, the lilacs have leafed out. The thing that’s confusing to me just dabbling my toes in the phenological pond is that things like oaks and maples (you can plant perennials according to this site’s list when the maples unfurl) have timing that’s all over the place - our gardens and streets are full of so many varieties now. Some of our oaks are still tightly wrapped while others’ leaves have exceeded mouse and are now fully cat. Which one do we believe? (I think the later ones or whichever ones are native to these parts.) Here at Blithewold we tend to go more by the moon when it comes to putting out the tender stuff. We’re typically safe from frost after the full moon in May - so oak leaves or no oak leaves after that is when we’ll start getting plants out of the greenhouse in earnest.

And then there’s full-on gardening by the moon: Dick and Cathy planted leeks today. According to the moon it might be just the right time - depending on whether they’re considered an above-ground or below-ground crop! (I’m easily confused.) Above-ground crops should be sown/planted during the waxing moon and below-ground with the wane.

Or you can do things according to your own busy schedule and hope for the best! We most often get things done exactly when we have a moment to do them. So I’ve decided to make up some of my own rules:

When the Maackia amurensis leaves are still silvery jewels, the Golden Larch is leafing out and the crabapples are starting to bloom, it’s definitely time to pot up dahlia tubers - which, speaking of mice, look an awful lot like a box full of them. — We pot up the dahlias that are earmarked for the North Garden so that when we plant them, they’re already up - we’re much less likely to trample them that way when we’re working in there.

Do you follow any of nature’s rules? Which ones? And better yet, do you make up any of your own?

Yesterday, the Rockettes and I were walking back to the greenhouse from planting teeny poppies and blue woodruff in the Rock Garden and I finally saw a tree that my eyes must have bounced off of nearly every day since I started working here. The tree has beautiful peeling bark that would have been a perfect feature in a Winter Interest post (maybe next winter I’ll write one of those…) and according to the AHS A-Z it has midsummer flowers (insignificant according to Julie) followed by pea-like seed pods. But this is what the Maackia amurensis has now and what my eyes finally lit on and saw:

From a distance the emerging leaves looked almost purple/blue and up close they were sterling silver busting out of an 18k greengold wrap! The thing that I can’t get over is not that it was one of the most incredible color combos I’ve ever noticed in nature but that I simply hadn’t registered the tree before. My challenge for you, if you choose to accept it, is to look at something new that you see everyday. You might find a surprise every bit as sublime and stunning and knock you off your rocker gorgeous (like these Red maple samaras).

There are other things we’re noticing in the gardens that aren’t so wonderful but are just as important to keep an eye out for. Gail and I spotted Cedar-apple rust (Gymnosporangium juniperi-virginiani) on a Juniper near the greenhouse. These alien orange gelatinous globs of disgusting goo appear in April/May usually after a rain on the host plant - Junipers (Juniperus virginiana) a.k.a Eastern Red Cedars - and then spread by spore to infect apples and native crabapples (most non-natives are resistant). Damage on apples appears as leaf spots, poor quality fruit and repeated infection can eventually cause the tree to die. Take a look at your junipers - if you see an orange Martian with horns, cut it off and throw it out (but not in the compost).

Today we moved some perennials from the North Garden to the Rose Garden and as I was digging my planting holes I came across these critters. The larger brown-orange one I think is a Gypsy Moth pupa (anyone know for sure?) and when I suggested putting the wriggling guy on the pavement for the birds to find both Gail and Julie said “Awww…” and the Mom in Gail said “We don’t harm nature, Kris.” So I rolled my eyes and buried it again. I squarshed the other one though and several of its siblings. And I would pay any child a penny a pinch to do the same because it was a Japanese beetle grub and future rose devour-er. I had half a mind to keep digging up the Rose Garden to try and find them all… Instead I did something much more pleasant - I nipped and pinched and groomed our lavenders. Older specimens often open up in the middle and pinching can help keep them young at heart.

Daffodil Days are still going strong although the daffodil show is beginning to go by. It’s a good thing the parade of (other) blooms has only just begun!

Look up. Look out. New leaves are turning all over the place! I think if you had the patience you could practically sit and watch the births like chicks hatching. I don’t have that kind of patience - or that kind of time! But I’m glad to have taken a look up and out this morning. The Cut Leaf Full Moon Japanese Maple (Acer japonicum ‘Aconitifolium’) was my morning’s favorite and another that sports puppy fur - which reminds me, no one has shared the answer yet to the fur’s-purpose question from the other day - my guess is still for frost protection.

The Kentucky yellowwood (Cladastrus kentuckea ‘Sweet Shade’) is finely fuzzed too. - What a shape! This one was my favorite.

And the Cinnamon fern (Osmunda cinnamomea) are also nestled in fur muffs and suprisingly tall all of a sudden! (favorite)

The Katsura (Cercidiphylum japonicum) leafed out overnight - the last I looked it only had flowers and now it’s got leaves the size of quarters. (2nd favorite)

And the Butterbur (Petasites japonicus) is giving me fits because its leaves have grown so much in the last week that I’ve had to move the label further out 3 times. (gah. but, of course - it’s a favorite.)

Aside from watching the leaves grow, strolling through a peak daffodil display and chatting with hundreds of visitors (hurrah for a banner week!) we’ve gotten a lot done the last couple of days and even put some stars on our calendar. -We draw big stars and underlines and color it all in highlighter orange when we’ve passed a major milestone. This week it was planting the sweet peas! We grew 17 varieties (including colors like Royal Wedding and April in Paris - in honor of my March) and planted them on a new fence edging Dick’s vegetable garden.

We also spent time with the Rockettes this morning replanting a muddy bank of Astilbe that have been hurling themselves out of the ground in the last couple of years. We could just pick up the clumps with our hands, they had heaved so much. Some clumps managed to survive such a life (fish out of water) and we’ll replace the ones that died with other things that might like a boggy shade bank that occasionally goes bone dry in a drought. (Is there anything?) This is a really good time, by the way, to move, divide or replant perennials - we try to do all our perennial moving before the end of April.

And could it be time already to hoop the peonies??!! Better check yours - I got our hoops on in the North Garden just in time - I didn’t have to smash and yank!

What have you been up to this week? Any milestones?  Turn over any new leaves?

No matter what I set out to do, something else always grabs me. All gardeners are familiar with this phenomenon (and some have already written winningly about it!). I went into the greenhouse with every intention of shifting pots from bench to bench in an attempt at organization. It was inevitable really that I’d discover that some plants needed water so of course I checked the whole place. In the middle of that sidetrack I discovered that the larkspur seedlings were eaten (grrrr!) and spent the next 10 minutes on a slug patrol. I checked the bottom of every peat pot, booted the little devils and unceremoniously squarshed them. (I think sometimes I should pick on someone my own size but a couple of these nearly were.) Anyway I’m getting sidetracked. So, I was in the middle of doing that when I noticed that the pitcher plant (Sarracenia leucophylla ‘Tarnok’ - ‘Judith Hindle’) flower was starting to unpeel and because I promised a couple of visitors last week that I’d post a picture I had to run right then and grab my camera.

I’m so sidetracked right now by spring that I might as well just get off the train for awhile. This is the other stuff that hooked me today: New leaves on the Red Chestnut (Aesculus x carnea ‘Briotii’) still have their puppy fur. Anyone know what the fuzz is for? My guess would be frost protection but then why do only some early openers have it?

The Pasque flower (Pulsatilla vulgaris) is furry too.

The Quince (Chaenomeles) reminds me of popcorn which reminds me that it’s ages since I went out to the movies…

The Winter hazel (Corylopsis glabrescens ‘Longwood Chime’) is still shaking out her skirts.

The Water Garden Cherry (Prunus x yedoensis ‘Akebono’) is in bloom - this tree would stop you in your tracks too.

And of course the Daffodils. Peak-a-boo! Most of the ‘Ice Follies’ have bleached to white and might go by in the next couple of weeks but the late bloomers will distract you completely. This one is Narcissus poeticus. When your daffs go by, it’s ok to deadhead them but be sure to leave the foliage on to nourish the bulb for at least 6 weeks. (Ideally you should let the foliage turn completely yellow and pull it when it comes out easily.) In case you’re wondering, we do not deadhead all 50,000 daffodils but we do tidy up the ones in and around the gardens and hope that we’ve been clever enough to plant something that will fill in and hide the clumps. Do you plant cover-ups? Do you braid the foliage à la Martha Stewart? Are you so easily sidetracked that you stop noticing it?

And I almost forgot! (I was thinking about popcorn.) - The Bosquet fountain is on! I’d never seen it in action - it’s been pretty much out of commission for nearly 10 years. Thanks to a generous grant and lots of hard work it’s a water feature once again. It would be lovely to sit and listen to the trickle… FYI: our restrooms are located to the right of the mansion entrance.

I got a full dose of vitamin D yesterday - I think everyone here did. It was our first short-sleeve warm sunny day and it seemed like the world was out taking deep sips. I know that I should have been suited up in a wide brimmed hat with plenty of brand new sunscreen slathered on every exposed inch but covered up was the last thing I wanted to be (though modesty precluded a striptease). There’s plenty of debate between getting our vitamin D from the sun vs. getting skin cancer from the same exposure and call me a vitamin D junkie but yesterday I got my fix and went home with an (un)healthy glow. What is it about the sun this time of year that can make you feel so great? It was softly warm and totally energizing. I’ve read that vitamin D isn’t linked to mood - though after years feeling S.A.D.D. in the dimly lit Pacific Northwest I have to think that it’s doing something to improve my outlook - maybe just knowing my calcium absorption rate is improved makes me feel livelier…

Whatever it was (the sun, the heat, the birds’ chatter) made me feel ready to go,go,go but we have reached that limbo stage in spring that is actually perfectly timed with the soft days. The gardens are tidy and ready and we’ve got a couple-week lull before the frenzy of spring and early summer planting. It’s not as if there aren’t chores to take care of right now but they’re not particularly taxing yet (no pun intended for those of you against the deadline). Now is when we concentrate on getting the greenhouse inhabitants groomed and ready for their eventual move outside (the Camellias are already out!) and we transplant hundreds of seedlings - more fastidious, deliberately sedate work is hard to come by. If you haven’t started a feeding schedule for your houseplants, now’s definitely the time. Give them their vitamins on the next sunny day along with a thorough check-up and groom session. And get yourself outside (as if you need convincing!). But if you’ve finished spring cleaning the garden (have you finished?) and are energetically wondering what’s next, take a walk. So much of gardening is noticing and there are definitely times of year when we get so focused on the doing of gardening that we might (I speak for myself at least) forget to notice. The peepers are back; The ospreys were right on time; there are bees in the scilla - have you noticed? I also love (and you know this about me already - now is when I start to repeat myself) to look up close at everything this time of year. There’s something so amazing about the little things.

From a distance the red maples are a hillside haze of red - up close they are garnet ornaments.

In the lull of the next couple of weeks, take your vitamins in the form of daffodil solar flares (even if daffs aren’t your thing, don’t they make you feel a little bit happy?) and a skyward gaze at the buds in trees. Yesterday’s warmth encouraged a few more daffodils to open - the Bosquet is not completely carpeted yet but its throw rugs are gorgeous. The weekend weather is forecast to be pretty dirty but don’t let a little rain and wind stop you from getting out and coming here. We’ve got displays in the house (check out Bessie’s awesome hats) and a great view into the Bosquet from the living room.

Wherever you are, in spring there comes a time when you should really stop avoiding your rose pruning duties. I don’t know what it is about roses but they seem to give people anxiety. I know I’m not the only one who has worried about doing roses “wrong”. People always stop to watch and learn when we’re working on the roses as if we might reveal the secret handshake. But you don’t have to be a part of a club to grow a pretty rose and even if you don’t obey the “rules”, the Rose Society police won’t arrest you for misconduct. (I’m pretty sure.)

The best time for spring pruning is before the buds have broken and on a mild weather day when all you want is to be outside doing something productive. Pruning when the roses are ready to break dormancy will ensure that all of their fresh energy goes straight into the canes and buds that you’ve decided to keep. Most of the roses we grow in the Rose Garden and North Garden are shrub roses and floribundas and those seem to love a heavy hand in the spring. (New roses only a year or two old prefer a lighter touch.) For instruction on different kinds of roses like climbers and hybrid teas, there are shelves of books written by experts - your local library probably has a ton.

We cut most of our roses back by about a third but I have to admit that once I get going, more like half goes sometimes. Cut out all the dead canes and give your rose the hairy eyeball to determine if any of the more elderly canes should come out as well. Take your time and go cane by cane - If there’s a young healthy cane and an old one side by side - maybe go ahead and take out some or all of the old one to give the new one room to grow. Your rose will tell you what to do - if you cut too far above a bud, you’ll find an ugly dead stub there in a few weeks. Cut too low and the bud might die. If you make your cut at an angle the water will run off rather than pool in the wound (who wants that?). Think about the shape of the rose to come. A lot of roses look their best with plenty of air circulation through the plant. If you cut above buds that face out rather than in, you’ll be helping the plant to not choke itself. (The books will tell you to make a V shape.) Crossed canes are another something to look for and cut out.

When the volunteers and I started this year’s pruning with trepidation, Julie reminded us, “Plants are forgiving”. Don’t be afraid. Even if you stand back and think you just butchered your prize ‘Ballerina’, it will probably reward your brutality by growing gangbusters.

Have you worked on your roses yet? Do you have a heavy hand or light touch?

The roses aren’t the only things in the garden ready to grow. We’ve started cleaning up the perennial beds - it’s much easier to cut back the dead when the new growth is still tight at the crown. And the Daffodils are looking like a few warm days is all it would take to bust out singing. I still think the peak bloom will be on schedule during the events of Daffodil Days but some of the ‘Ice Follies’ might start their show this weekend. (The house opens for the season on April 12; the grounds are open now.)

I have to admit that on my rainy ride home from the airport last week I despaired of seeing spring anytime soon here. Anyone who has ever ridden down Rt. 24 between Boston and Fall River knows “bleak” - even on a sunny midsummer’s day that’s a dreary drive. But now that I’m off that highway and back at Blithewold I’m convinced that something is really actually happening spring-wise. And it seems like it’s happening a lot sooner than last year. Look at this post from last April 9. - And this is now - almost 2 weeks sooner.

But it all depends on the weather. Last year I noted in my calendar that the 1st daffs were spotted in the Bosquet on April 3 but that peak wasn’t until the week of the 23rd! In between we had had a few monster storms and I sprayed shading on the sweltering greenhouse twice. This year, who knows? (anyone? anyone?)

I think the early Easter has me all unstuck in time - I had to look up how the Church determines the date: It’s set to be on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox. This was the earliest Easter in something like 95 years. Is the early full moon affecting our gardens or just my mind? (–There is a discrepancy some years between the astronomical and ecclesiastical dates of the equinox - to test my early moon= early spring theory I’ll have to start paying closer attention to the sky rather than to the date breakfast is served with a side of jelly beans and marshmellow peeps.)

But I swear something’s happening and it seems early. The birds are making a racket, Gail has heard peepers and we’re all getting out of the house. The volunteers got outside this week to clean up Display Garden beds and start on the Rock Garden and the Florabundas got started with lots of laughs and some Rose Garden pruning. And the guys, who flinched and fled before my camera like paparazzi plagued rock stars, have been busy lifting heavy things in the Display Garden and initiating Joel - I’ll only call him “The New Guy” this once. (Welcome to Blithewold, Joel!)

According to my calendar, we’re right on schedule…

Do you keep a calendar from year to year? Have you felt a difference in timing only to discover from your notes that it’s going like clockwork? Do you dare to make bloom time predictions in your garden?

Let’s start at the very beginning
A very good place to start

Now that you are all enjoying a Rodgers and Hammerstein earworm like me, I can tell you spring has officially sprung at Blithewold. There’s something that happens in the 3rd week of February - have you noticed a change? We mark it in our calendars every year. The sun is a certain smidge higher in the sky so when it’s out - even if there’s a frigid wind like there’s been this week, the greenhouse toasts right up. The birds have noticed the change too and I’ve noticed them - just this week. There’s a guy outside the potting shed right now singing and chattering away all about how cool he is. (I agree that he’s a studmuffin but he does go on and on…)

And - drum roll please - it’s spring because we started sowing seeds! I think gardeners know the answer to the chicken/egg conundrum - what comes first, the plants or the seeds? - it’s the seeds, obviously -duh! Gail and Lilah (who - three cheers! - will be our intern this summer) did a bench full of 17 varieties of sweet peas. We don’t knick or soak our sweet pea seeds because we’re not in a rush for them to germinate. We sow 2 seeds per peat pot in damp potting soil (Metro mix 360 with coir) and we water them in and keep them in one of the cool greenhouses (night temps around 50 degrees F). Knock wood, most germinate within a couple of weeks - the red varieties are sometimes slower . No matter when sweet peas get their start, they’ll bloom around the same time because they’re day length dependent.

Dick (vegetable garden volunteer extraordinaire) also came in to go through his seeds and he couldn’t wait a moment more to start leeks, onions, strawberries and artichokes. Did you know artichokes need a period of vernalization - temperatures in the mid 30’s to 50’s in order to produce tasty flowers late summer?

During the flurry of seeding activity, Julie (Blithewold’s director of horticulture) and Tara (the princess) came to prune the 40 year old Calamondin Orange. Every year around this time, Julie gives the tree her trained eye and a trim and every three years or so she root prunes as well. It has gotten to the size and age now that we really should root prune more often. It didn’t just pop out of the pot like we thought it might and we had to ask the Men to work their muscle magic. (They used a saw. I gotta get me one of those.)

Julie cut away not quite a third of the roots altogether (a third is the general rule of greenthumb). She cut away from the top edge, scored triangle chunks out of the sides and sliced through the dead feeders that had been up against the pot. She trimmed a good 5 inches off the bottom as well. Early spring is the time for root pruning because that’s when the plants are programmed to put on new growth. For some plants, root pruning in the fall can induce permanent dormancy (call it death).

Anyone else out there who couldn’t wait another minute to start some seeds or do spring chores?

Sometimes that’s not a bad thing. (I’m not talking about Superbowl Sunday chili binges and consolation snacks for sad Patriots’ fans.) Deliciously spring-like temperatures and the weekend’s warming sun have started plumping up the buds - some fit to burst.

This willow in the nursery (labeled Salix ‘Mt. Aso’) couldn’t wait another moment to bust out its fiberoptic glow plugs and the witch hazel (Hamemelis x intermedia ‘Diane’) has begun uncreaking its crimps like an arthritic yogi.

Buds on the Cornelian Cherry (Cornus mas) are fairly rotund and the Star Magnolia’s (Magnolia stellata) are fat fuzzy slippers which hopefully will not be tempted to unwrap too soon in the yo-yo weather. The hellebores (Helleborus foetidus) have finally un-caped their plump buds right on schedule.

What has put on fat in your garden? Whenever the weather’s not too rotten, take a close look. This is a great time to test your winter i.d. skills (if you learn to identify trees and shrubs in the winter, you can i.d. them anytime - who needs leaves?!) and if you’re out there watching the buds and ticking off the days to spring bloom, you won’t miss the show. (Winter and spring bloomers tend to not be big self-promoters. You have to seek them out.)

If you want a spring tease, cut a few branches of early spring bloomers and place them in water. About a month ago I cut some Forsythia and Flowering Quince (Chaenomeles speciosa) and kept them in one of the cool greenhouses. The Forsythia opened over the weekend and the Quince will probably be only another sunny day behind. When you first cut the branches and put them in a vase, make sure to make a verticle cut through the base of the stem to expose more pithy surface area to the water. To speed bloom, give them fresh warm water everyday and keep them in a warm, sunny location. To slow them down, give them only cold water and keep them in a cool room. Depending on how close the buds are to breaking when you pick and how warm they are kept, forcing can take anywhere from a week to (in my case) a month.

It’s a sunny, breezy 24 degrees F. outside and a sunny, fragrant, toasty-feeling 62 in the greenhouse. I’d rather be in the greenhouse than out of it right now. If you’re anything like me, in the middle of deep winter on the cusp of the age of aquarius you have a serious case or at least the onset of a serious case of cabin fever. It’s raw outside and it’s funky inside. For a gardener, I think the best cure is to surround yourself with plants.

As I see it there are a couple of options. For the unwilling to venture out, you could gather all of your plant babies together (or make the rounds) and spend some quality time grooming them. Have you started fertilizing yet? If you have, you might notice bugs on the succulent new growth. There’s nothing better than a little pest-icide on a winter’s day. Do you have a favorite method of control? In the greenhouse we duke it out with aphids, whitefly, mealy bug, scale and occasionally spidermite. We recently tried a Neem spray by Organica which cost $9 for a quart. For the difference in price between that and dish soap/insecticidal soap and no discernible difference in results, I have to say I prefer using soap. With soap I can spray with abandon! Neither Gail nor I love the smell of the Neem or the insectical soap, and I’m thinking of switching to my favorite lavender scented dish soap. Doesn’t lavender oil have insecticidal properties too or am I making that up? (Not that there’s much/any real lavender oil in the soap…) When I use any kind of soap, I dilute it so that there’s just the hint of a bubble in the spray and we don’t use it on the ferns or anything else with sensitive pores. We used to use horticultural oil (again, not on ferns, etc) but probably because I do have a tendency to spray with wanton abandon, many poor plants suffered under the onslaught and their leaves burned. It is best to spray -anything- on a cloudy day. Horticultural oil will kill scale but I actually prefer picking them off by hand and washing leaves and stems to control the sooty mold that grows on their sugary poo.

If you’ve already turned your own house into a greenhouse (anytime you pay attention to the plants in your house, you’re in a virtual greenhouse) and you’re ready for an outing - think about going to an actual greenhouse to indulge in a different climate. Not all greenhouses feel tropical but they are warmer than the outdoors and more humid than indoors - a welcome sigh in the middle of dry winter! More often than not there’s a scent or 12 to sip with your breath too. This teeny weeny little cluster of blooms is part of what’s scenting our greenhouse these days. It’s a Sweet Olive - Osmanthus fragrans and it’s delish.

The trip to the Smith College Botanic Garden is still on and there’s not much time left to sign up (the deadline for registration is February 6). Don’t miss this trip - sign up now and cure that cabin fever! Check out the Smith College Botanic Garden site if you need more motivation.

(click on images for a larger view and captions)