This is probably my favorite time of the year as a gardener...of course, spring and summer are fantastic, too, but late winter is hard to beat. By this time, plant geeks like me are salivating over plant and seed catalogs and rearing to get out in the garden and dig. During February, I need two things: a huge windfall of spending money and the ability to clone myself at least a dozen times. My head is full of plans, concepts, projects, to-do lists, and add-on ideas that flow ceaselessly forth throughout the day--and often, at night. One idea is rarely fully formed before five more have appeared. I can picture right now three of the five arbors I want to build (their designs evolve continually) at least six dozen different bird and mason bee houses I'm wanting to make, endless deck configurations, four hundred (at least) plants that jostle for first-place on my 'must get soon' list, several dozen fruit trees I already wish were added to our newly planted orchard, and on, and on, and on.
Oh, and the soil preparations--for those of us installing new planting spaces into native soil, winter is the *best* time to build, enrich, and cultivate the soil in a slow, healthy way. Sure, you can dump your amendments, till and plant all in a day...but when possible, it's best to start slowly, add a bit at a time, turn the soil gently, and allow the natural process to occur at a more natural rate. Let the organic matter and native soil get to know each other and blend, rest, turn, and allow weed seeds to germinate a few times before they're turned under again. I hate tilling mechanically--it's lovely in the short-term, but can actually damage soil structure--particularly when it's done too quickly or when the soil is wet--and should be done as little as possible. So, at this time of year, you'll find me nearly every afternoon turning over spadeful after spadeful of soil out in the veggie plots. Planting time is just around the corner, and it's coming along steadily.
A few discoveries recently in the meadow:
A nice patch of native Yarrow, Achillea millefolium, at the edge of the woods where it's enjoying a bright patch of sun. We'll transplant some of this into perennial spaces and leave a good bit behind to grow naturally.
Also:
A lovely Goldenrod, possibly either Solidago canadensis or S. altissima, but it's in plentiful supply along the edges where meadow meets woods.
Two roses I propagated for addition to various locations at the farm: I haven't been able to positively identify either, but they've been part of the plantings at Brookhaven for decades, and I've been meaning to get cuttings for years. Finally, late last summer, I got some and they've done very well--I'll transplant them this weekend:
This is my favorite rose on our grounds here--it matures to a creamy, honey-yellow color, but looks like a lantern lit from within when it's buds are young. The scent is actually slightly lemony, too--it's a tough rose, growing and blooming reliably in a fairly unhospitable and rarely tended location. Irma, my grounds forewoman, was instructed to cut it out by the roots years ago by the Horticulturist at that time--thankfully, she disobeyed those directions, and hid the cut back canes with a thick layer of mulch--and saved this rose's life. Good ol' Irma.
And another:
Looks like a fairly simple pink rose, right? While the color might be fairly common, it's vigor is special--this rose forms a shrub up to 8' in height with a slight fountain-like habit. It's not a climber--I feel sure--but the trunks can be 4" in diameter or more and it forms a dense thicket. It's smothered with blossoms from March through November, and produces loads and loads of sweet hips each year. I can't wait for my yearlings to mature. Again, not positively identified, so input is welcome!
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